Secret Agent Prince
by Mystik Angel 85
Summary: Crossover. The Future of his people, the people of Volterra; rest Prince Edward's mission: Infiltrate Swan Oil and confirm if they are a front for the terrorist group The Volturi. But falls in love with the enemy's daughter. AH. OC. Mostly Canon.
1. Prologue

**Hey Guys**

**Just a quick AN. I have changed somethings on this but as you can see from my disclaimer i do not own a thing in this story. It all belongs to Stephanie Meyers and Linda Winstead Jones. Consider it a crossover if you will.**

**I hope you like it. When i was reading this novel i thought that the characters from Twilight would go well with it so i thought why not write it.**

**And i do understand some people will not like this. But that is OK. That is your way if you will.**

**Mystik..  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. All is owned by Stephanie Meyers and Linda Winstead Jones. **

Summary: The future of his; the Volterran people rested on his mission; Prince Edward Cullen's mission: infiltrate Swan Oil and confirm that they are a front for the terrorist group suspected of kidnapping the crown prince of La Push. But his contacts had left out one important fact.

The company CEO was a woman – the stunningly beautiful, seemingly innocent Isabella Swan. Courting Isabella was the safest way to learn corporate secrets. But as passion between them raged, instant and hot, Edward fought a losing battle against falling for the daughter of his country's deadly enemy…

**Secret Agent Prince **

_Prologue_

*Third Person*

Edward hurried down the corridor toward the study that adjoined his parents chambers. The thud of his heavy work boots on ancient tile resounded off the walls. His shadow, cast by soft lamplight that lined the hallway, followed him, dancing over the colourful mosaic that depicted the opulent palace lifestyle of another time.

He had been summoned and because he had spent the afternoon at the refinery in Voltar, the southernmost island of Volterra, it had been several hours since his father had sent for him. Their meetings were usually tense enough, without Nathaniel Cullen's agitation being heightened by his having to wait.

As Edward approached, the guard at the massive engraved door of King Nathaniel's study opened it for him, nodding silently as Edward stepped inside. Nathaniel Cullen was seated at his long mahogany desk, imposing and impatient as always. Edward's mother, Elisabeth Cullen sat in her favourite place, a padded chair by the arched window that looked out over the sea. Silently stitching on her latest embroidery project, she paused long enough to lift her head and give Edward the welcoming smile of a loving mother. She returned to her work without saying a word.

King Nathaniel did not remain silent long. As soon as the door behind Edward was closed the old king stood, looked his second-born son up and down and snarled in disgust. "You look like a common labourer."

"I was told this meeting was urgent," Edward replied sharply. "If you'd like to wait a while longer, I'll bathe and change…"

"We do not have time to wait."

His mother surreptitiously lifted a finger to her own face, pointing to her left cheek Edward raised his hand and wiped away the smudge of grease there. Thirty four years old and still he had to explain away something so simple as evidence of a day's hard work!

"There was a small accident," he said as he glanced down at his stained tan coveralls.

"Was anyone hurt?" his father asked tersely.

"No"

"Good." The old king retook his seat, and indicated the leather chair on Edward's side of the desk.

Edward gratefully approached the desk and took that seat. It had been a hard day long before his father had summoned him.

"A proper wife would make you behave as a member of the royal family should behave," he old man muttered.

"Then I am doubly glad I do not have a proper wife," Edward responded.

His father clenched his jaw, "Tanya Denali is a lovely young woman, and her father has political connections…"

"She laughs like a hyena," Edward interrupted.

His father's nose twitched, just slightly. "Well, that might be true. Lauren Mallory's family also has useful connections," he said insistently, "and for all I know she has a lovely laugh."

Edward's own laughter held no humour. "How will we ever know? I don't think she laughs at all. Or speaks. Look at her the wrong way and I'm quite sure she'll faint dead away."

"Jessica Stanley…"

"Has a nose longer than yours," Edward interrupted, annoyed that his father's urgent summons was about this tired old subject. They'd had this conversation before, and it always ended badly. On this subject, as well as many others they would never agree. "I have no desire to marry, Father. And if I ever do succumb to the temptation, I will not choose a bride based on her family's political connections."

"It is your obligation."

Edward shook his head and pushed back his mussed hair with both hands. "Women have their place." In his bed, though since his mother was present he would not offer that assertion aloud. "If I ever meet one who does not bore me after a day or two, perhaps I will consider marriage." He doubted such a woman existed. While he adored women-their beauty, the softness of their skin beneath his hands, the warmth of their gentle smiles-he could not imagine spending his life with just one.

The old king slapped his hand on the desk. "I never should have allowed you to attended university in America! Those years made you insolent."

Edward's mother cleared her throat, and both men turned their eyes to her. She did not lift her own eyes from the embroidery in her lap. "I feel obligated to remind you, Nathaniel, that Edward was insolent at the age of three, long before he went to university."

Edward smiled at his mother. No one else could reason with Nathaniel Cullen the way she did. No one else dared.

Edward waited for his father to continue, but the old man placed his folded hands on his desk and waited. For what, Edward did not know. A few moments later the door behind him opened and Carlisle walked in. As Edward's older brother closed the door behind him their mother rose, taking her embroidery with her and exiting through the side door. Edward glanced up at Carlisle, who shoes to stand beside their father's desk rather than taking a seat of his own. One look at his brother's face and Edward know something was up. Something big.

"I did not summon you here to have that tired discussion again," Edward's father said softly. "I have a mission for you, something to which you are so well suited that Carlisle and I agree you are the only man for the job."

Edward leaned forward, his entire body tensing. "What kind of mission?"

The strain between them was not gone, but it simmered, unimportant for the moment. "We have evidence which suggests that an oil refinery in Chicago is serving as American headquarters for The Volturi. We have no concrete proof, but if our intelligence is correct, information on the location of the missing prince of La Push might be found there."

"Why not pass this information on to the American authorities? Their FBI, perhaps?"

The old king snorted, "I trust my own son. I do not trust the American FBI. Also, our active involvement in such a pursuit will show our goodwill, our desire to mend the unsteady relations with La Push."

"Until you return, no one outside this room is to know the real reason for your trip," Carlisle added. "There's a leak somewhere. I want to believe that the traitor is someone inside the La Push Palace, not our own, but we cannot rule out the possibility that the traitor is among us. Until we find the culprit we can trust no one."

Edward nodded. Whatever his father asked of him, he would do. The fact that the old man had actually admitted aloud that he trusted his second-born, often disobedient son, was enough. But Edward had other reasons for taking on this task.

If his mission strengthened Volterra's ties with the West, all the better La Push. If he could do something to end what tension remained with La Push once and for all; He would have made a true and important contribution to the welfare of his country. Recovering the missing price, alive and unharmed, would heal a lot of old wounds.

La Push and Volterra, countries that had been at odds for Edward's lifetime and more, now shared a common enemy. Their determination to destroy the Brothers brought them together in a way nothing else could.

"I want you to infiltrate the oil refinery," Nathaniel continued, "under the guise of a possible merger. Your interests in the business, and in the American refinery methods, are well-known. Your defiance of me is also common knowledge," he added with a short-lived wry smile. "No one will suspect your motives to be anything less than sincere, since you have recently made it clear that you wish to own and operate your own refinery."

Carlisle tossed a large envelope at Edward. It slid across the desk until Edward stopped it with the palm of his hand. "The company is owned by Charles Swan, but the actual operation of the refinery is left to his CEO, an I. M. Swan."

"A family member?"

Carlisle answered, "I would imagine, yes. We could not arrange a meeting with Charles Swan himself, but you have an appointment with the CEO for Tuesday afternoon."

Edward grinned, "You knew I would say yes."

"Of course." The old man answered, completely in control, showing no emotion, "Inside the envelope is what little information we have on Swan Oil. They are a small company, but quite successful."

Edward opened the envelope and spilled the contests on to his father's desk. "Do you suspect that the CEO I will be meeting with is involved with The Volturi?" The terrorist group had made it impossible for their home country, Priea and Volterra to find peace.

"We have no way of knowing that," Carlisle said. "All we know is that someone within the Swan Oil organization has ties to the Brothers. Unfortunately there is no time for a thorough check on everyone involved in the company, and with the breach in security we thought such an investigation might be more dangerous that helpful. In these circumstances we thought it best to proceed with what we have, as discreetly as possible," Carlisle added with a lift of his eyebrows. It was an admonition, of sorts. Edward was not known for his discretion.

"This is all I need," Edward said, sifting through the scant of information that had been gathered. Apparently Swan Oil was a major contributor to the Priea National Trust, a well-known financial front for The Volturi. Edward returned the papers to the envelope. He'd study them more carefully in his own apartment, and later on the jet that would take him to Chicago. As he shifted the papers, a photograph fell onto the desk.

"Who is this?" he said, tapping the grainy profile of the man in traditional Prieaian dress.

"El-Malak," His father said hoarsely.

Edward lifted his eyes to study his father's stoic face. "The Ghost?"

Carlisle leaned over to study the photograph himself. "They call him the Ghost because he has been fortunate or skilled enough to elude almost certain capture more than once, when the authorities closed in on the Brothers in Priea. Makes more sense if we assume that he doesn't spend all his time in his home country, but actually lives in America. El-Malak is the only name we have, and that is the only photograph known to have been taken of him. He is most surely in charge of the American faction of the Brothers. You will find more details on his past included in the information you have been given."

The old man's nose twitched. "It is not much, I'm afraid."

"My appointment with the CEO is Tuesday afternoon," Edward said, returning the photograph to the envelope. "When do I leave?"

"You will fly out tonight," Carlisle answered. "Arrangements have been made. We will talk before you leave, concerning communications."

Edward stood, more than ready to return to his suite of rooms in the royal apartments to look over the information needed to get started.

His father rose, too. There had been a time when Edward and Carlisle both had to crane their necks to gaze up at their imposing father, their little hearts full of love and fear and respect. Today it was the old king who had to look up at his sons, but the love and respect, and sometimes a trace of the fear, the children had for their father remained. They did not speak of the emotions and ties of their family, but even in times of conflict the feelings were there.

"Inside the envelope there are also intelligence photographs of other known members of The Volturi," his father said solemnly, "Study their faces, Edward memorize them. The names we have will likely do you no good, but remember their faces. And look for El-Malak in Chicago."

**AN: Yes this story is basically "Secret Agent Shiek" by Linda Winstead Jones, it is a crossover between it and twilight. **


	2. The CEO

**AN: I changed a minor detail in the first chapter, Edward was on the island of Voltar, instead of Forks. Because well you will see.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. **

**Chapter One – The CEO**

Bella stood at the tall window in her office and glanced down into the parking lot. Prince Edward Cullen arrived right on time, whipping silver Aston Martin Vanquish into the parking lot two minutes before their meeting was set to begin. He took tong, arrogant strides through the parking lot. His traditional costume – long jacket and baggy pants, all a Lime Green – whipped around him as he made his way toward the building entrance with what could only be called impatience in his step. He glanced toward the refinery, less than half a mile away and clearly visible from the office building, but his gaze did not longer there.

Angela slipped into the room, escaping from her desk in the outer office. "You look very pretty," She said primly.

Bella turned from the window and smiled at her assistant and friend. "I'm not supposed to look _pretty,_" she said. "I'm supposed to look professional." Since she usually spent more time at the refinery than in the office, on most days she wore coveralls and work boots, and ended the day with a bad case of hard-hat hair. For this meeting, she had taken her most severely cut suit, a plain but well-made navy blue outfit, out of the closet. She wore a crisp white blouse and navy pumps, not _too_ high-heeled, and a little bit of makeup.

Bella was not nervous about meeting Prince Edward, she had told herself all morning. She wanted to make a good impression because if this merger went through it could be important. Not so much for the company which was stable financially, but for her father's home country, Priea, and the Prince's country, Volterra. Relations between the two were difficult and had been for a very long time. A union of some sort with the royal family of Volterra might help to stabilize those relations.

Her father didn't think so. He had ordered her to show the Prince around, be polite and then decline any offers of a partnership. She had hopes that she could change his mind before the prince's visit was over.

She looked down at Angela, who at barely five foot three stood a good foot and a half shorter than Bella. Angela's frizzy. Pale brown hair had started the day in a bun, but most of it had already begun to fall. "I know all about Prince Edward." She said in a low voice. "He's a playboy who has more money than sense, and buying into this refinery would be like buying a new toy. I have to make myself forget that, so I don't toss him out on his ass. A connection with the royal family would be good for Swan Oil, and for Priea." She only hoped she could maintain her patience with the prince. She had little use for men who lived their lives the way he did. No responsibilities and too much money and not enough common sense. Prince Edward Cullen was nothing more than a large, spoiled child looking for a now plaything, and he'd set his sights on _her_ refinery.

Bella reminded herself, as she had all morning, that a potential partnership with the royal family of Volterra was more important than her own impatience with slackers. She could and would keep her opinions to herself, no matter how annoying the playboy prince turned out to be.

The elevator on her floor pinged as the door opened, and at that moment the phone on her desk rang. Angela walked across the room to answer the phone, and Bella proceeded into the outer office to greet the prince.

He stepped from the hallway into the office with the same arrogance that had carried him through the parking lot. For a moment Bella was speechless. Edward was tall, a good six foot and broad in the shoulders. He looked bigger face to face than he had from her window view. She tried to tell herself it was the traditional costume that made him seem imposing. If not that, then it was the touch of gold in the black braided silk that was wrapped around his waist, the massiveness of the emerald on his right hand, the gold watch on his left wrist. But she couldn't fool herself. Beneath his loose, traditional clothing, this man was powerfully built. Strong and hard. The power that emanated from him had nothing to do with what he wore.

Even with sunglasses hiding his eyes from her, she could tell tat he had an unusually handsome, olive-toned face. The cut of his jaw was sharp and masculine, the nose perfectly straight and fittingly regal, and the mouth… a mouth that sensuous should be illegal!

"Welcome to Swan Oil," She said, recovering quickly and stepping forward, offering her hand for a crisp, businesslike handshake. The prince took her hand in his, grasped it firmly, and brought it to his lips. She was so shocked when he touched her knuckles with that illegal mouth of his that she jumped. A tingle shimmied up her arm to her neck. The prince wore a small, completely wicked smile as he returned to an upright position and gradually released her hand, very lightly trailing his fingers over her palm.

"If I had known that Mr. Swan had such an enchanting secretary, I would have arrived early so I could spend time with you before my meeting. Perhaps he will be kind enough to leave me waiting for a few minutes." His English as almost perfect, his voice deep and sweet as honey.

"Secretary?" Bella said with a smile of her own. "Mr. Cullen, I'm…"

"Edward," He interrupted. "Such an enchanting lady must call me by my given name. And yours is…?"

"Isabella, but everyone calls me Bella." She answered, wondering how long it would take Edward to realize his mistake.

"A beautiful name," he said, removing his sunglasses and giving Bella her first good, full look at his face. His eyes were an Emerald Green, deep and penetrating and as sensuous as his mouth.

"Isabella Swan," she said.

His smile widened. "Then you are also a relation of the owner, Charles Swan? How nice to find that this is a true family business."

"Isabella Marie Swan."

It took a moment, but his smile eventually faded. "I.M. Swan," he said softly.

"Exactly." Bella was accustomed to the old-world attitudes of her father and his friends. If Charles Swan had fathered a son, she would not be in this position. She would not be CEO, and she would not have a degree in chemical engineering. But there was no son; there was only Bella, to Charles Swan's lifelong dismay.

She found Edward's disconcerted expression rather amusing. He obviously had not planned to do business with a woman. "Would you like to step into my office?" She moved back and lifted her hand to indicate the open door, just as Angela walked out and laid widening eyes on the prince.

Edward stepped into the inner office, and Bella turned to Angela to request coffee for two. An obviously impressed Angela mouthed "Hubba-hubba," before heading for the coffeemaker and the full pot that awaited their visitor.


	3. The Meeting

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Stephanie Meyer and Linda Winstead Jones do.**

**Thank you to all that have read my story. Well not my story. But you know what I mean. But I would love for you guys to review.**

**So on with the story.**

**Chapter Two – The Meeting**

Edward sat facing Bella Swan. They were separated by a desk, two cups of terrible, weak coffee, and several unorganized piles of paperwork. He was still astounded that Swan Oil's CEO was a woman! And an amazingly beautiful one, at that. Such a woman should have better, more appropriate pursuits to fill her time. He could think of a few, sitting here watching her as she told him all about Swan Oil and the operations of their refinery.

She did seem to be knowledgeable, he would give her that. They had been discussing the refinery for over an hour, and she had answered every one of his questions without referring to notes or calling on an assistant. The CEO of Swan Oil was not a mere figurehead – she knew what she was doing.

Surely Bella Swan was not involved with The Volturi. Not only was it unlikely that the Brothers would allow a woman into their organization, he was certain that he saw honesty and sincerity in Bella's brown eyes. She was open, direct and earnest, and she had no qualms about looking him squarely in the eye. The longer he watched and listened to her, the more convinced he was of her integrity.

He set the certainty of her innocence aside. Appearances could be deceiving, and anything… anything was possible.

But Bella Swan truly was beautiful. Her dark brown hair, sleek and straight, was cut short. The ends touched her chin and swayed when she moved quickly. Her seemingly honest eyes were a magnificent shade of brown and topped by dark, well-shaped eyebrows that arched perfectly and naturally. Her skin was flawless and golden – a combination of her father's Prieaian blood and the Washington sun, he imagined – and her lips were invitingly full.

Yes, she knew what she was doing, here, but surely someone else actually ran the refinery. "Who is in charge of operations?"

She set perfectly calm eyes on him, "I am."

He smiled. "Yes, I know you are CEO, but who actually sees to the day-to-day refinery affairs?" That was the person he needed to see, the man who was involved on a daily basis in the plant supervision.

Those brown eyes hardened, Isabella Swan's nostrils flared slightly. "Mr. Cullen," she said tightly. "Are you going to have a problem dealing with a woman?"

"Of course not. It just seems implausible to me that a woman like you could be involved in such a dirty business."

"I know this is a male-dominated business but…"

"Is that why you use I.M. Swan instead of Isabella? Isabella is such a lovely name," he said, looking her in the eye, smiling softly.

She sighed. "Yes, I use my initials on correspondence to avoid moments like this one," she said testily. "Mr. Cullen, I understand the world you come from. My father has some of the same old-fashioned ideals. If he can put aside his prejudices to allow me to run this company, surely you can forget that I'm a woman and look at me simple as a business associate."

Edward lifted his eyebrows in question. Forget that she was a woman? Unlikely. "I can... try."

"Thank you," she said in a low voice. Ah, he had annoyed her. A blush rose to her cheeks, and her eyes shone brighter than they had before.

"I would like a tour of the refinery as soon as possible," he said, pushing the weak coffee the secretary had prepared aside. In truth, it didn't matter that Isabella Swan was beautiful, that when he had first seen her something inside him had clenched and fluttered, or that for a few wonderful moments he had forgotten the purpose of his visit.

"How about tomorrow morning?" Bella pushed back a strand of hair that brushed her cheek. "I have phone calls to make this afternoon, and I'm sure you must be tired, after traveling all this way. I'll make arrangements to have the proper safety equipment here in the morning. I hope you don't mind setting aside your traditional attire for the tour. The long loose fabric can be dangerous in a working plant. Steel-toed boots and a hard hat will be required, and I'm afraid I don't allow loose clothing on the plant. It's too dangerous.

"Of course," he said. He had worn the traditional attire thinking that if I.M. Swan were a conservative Prieaian he might be suitably impressed. All his suppositions about I.M. Swan had been very, very wrong. He had done his best, but he suspected Bella was not at all impressed.

"Dress casually, and I'll have a pair of coveralls here for you to wear."

He nodded in agreement.

"Wonderful. Meet me here, and after you change I'll drive you out to the refinery." Bella stood, signaling that the meeting was over, and Edward rose slowly to his feet.

The last thing he wanted to do was return to his suite at the hotel and try to sleep. Yes, it had been a long trip, but his mind was spinning. There was so much to be done, so little time. And yet, to push fir an immediate tour of the refinery might seem strange.

Bella opened her door and gave him a smile as she tried to usher him out of her office. As he passed very close by the Swan Oil CEO, Edward sensed uneasiness in her, a nervous sparkle in her eyes and in the way her slender fingers fluttered. He suspected her unsettled response had nothing to do with the oil business.

He stepped through the doorway and into the outer office. No, he did not want to wait until tomorrow to proceed with his investigation. Time was of the essence. If his initial instincts were correct, Bella might not be involved with The Volturi at all, she might know nothing about the prince's disappearance. But she know the people at Swan Oil. If the Brothers were here, she knew something. Even if she wasn't aware of her knowledge.

Edward spun to face Isabella Swan, wanting another look, not quite ready to leave her. "I have an idea," he said, smiling at the solution that came to him. "I will buy you dinner this evening to make amends for my earlier blunder. I feel quite guilty."

Bella seemed taken aback by the offer. She had definitely not expected it. "That's…very kind of you, but I have a meeting this evening…"

"Oh," the woman seated at the outer office desk interrupted. Spinning around in her chair to face them. "I forgot to tell you, Ms. Swan. That meeting has been cancelled." Bella's secretary, an older woman with wildly misbehaving hair and mischievously twinkling blue eyes, smiled widely.

"I'd be happy to make reservations for you," she added. "La Bella's at eight?"

Bella glared at her secretary. "Thank you," she said tersely, turning a tight smile Edward's way. "I'll meet you there. You shouldn't have any problems finding it. Forks is a pretty small town, and the restaurant is less than a mile from your hotel."

"Lovely." He offered his hand, as if for a handshake. Bella hesitated before offering her own hand. He took that hand, bent down to kiss the knuckles once again. This time he let his mouth linger, just a moment longer than was proper. She shivered tellingly and he felt her response through his hands, through his lips.

This assignment might not be such a sacrifice after all.

**AN: So guys what do you think? I would love it if you guys REVIEW. **

**Being a full time TAFE student, I don't know when I will update next, next week I have exams in two of my classes before we go on holidays and I have to study so, I will try and get as many as I can that are already done up but then I don't know when the next one will be.**

**But please tell me what you think so I know to actually continue it. **

**Mystik**


	4. Wear The Blue Dress!

**AN: Thank you to every one that has read this. But also a thank you to everyone that has added me to either favourite author, favourite story, or put alerts on me and my story.**

**Also a thank you to those who have encouraged me to continue this and to put it back up, i hope you all like this and continue to read. But please i would like your reviews it would tell me a lot. Well now on with the story. Yes they will get longer just not yet. Sorry am trying.  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Stephanie Meyer and Linda Winstead Jones Does…**

**Chapter Three – Wear the Blue Dress!**

Bella waited until Edward's Aston Martin left the parking lot at warp speed. "You're fired," she whispered without turning to look at the short, gleeful woman who stood behind her.

"I am not," Angela said. "No one else knows the filing system. You'd be lost without me."

She _would_ be lost without Angela, but not because of Angela's filing system or her efficiency as an assistant. They both knew Angela's job secure, even when she pulled stunts like this one.

"You couldn't just leave well enough alone."

Angela snorted. "You didn't have any meeting tonight. You never did! A drool-worthy man asks you on a date, and you blow him off with a nonexistent business meeting? What's wrong with you?"

"It's not a date," Bella argued, something in her stomach flipping over at the very idea. "It's business. Just business."

"Ha." Angela snorted "The way that hunky prince was looking at you, I could tell the only business on his mind was monkey business."

"If you think he's such a hunk, then why don't _you_ meet him for dinner?"

Bella turned around in time to see Angela wrinkle her nose. "I'm old enough to be his…well, not his mother, but I'm definitely old enough to be his much older sister, or an aunt or something. Besides, he didn't stare at me like he wanted to eat me up."

Bella's heart lurched. She had caught glimpses of that stare herself.

"You haven't had a real date in…" Angela shook her head. "It's been so long I can't even remember!"

"I don't have time for a social life," Bella argued.

"Make time," Angela said no hint of teasing in her voice. Bella sighed. For too long, Swan Oil had been her entire world. She'd only loved once in her life. After Mike had died, just weeks after he'd asked her to marry him; she couldn't bear to make herself even think about loving again.

It had been years before she'd found the nerve to so much as agree to a dinner date, and even those short evenings were usually disasters. They few relationships she had forged after Mike's death had never lasted, because she had learned to put business before all else. No man, no matter how charming or handsome, could ever come before the business she had devoted herself to. And no man wanted to be second best. She had learned that early on.

In the past could of years, she had tried to remedy a few of her mistakes, but romantic relationships still proved to be more than she could handle. She was thirty years old, and she'd never been married. Mike had been gone eight years, long enough for her to mourn his loss and move on. It wasn't too late for her, far from it. But time was running out, with every day that assed, and she didn't want to wake up one morning to realize that she was an old woman and it really was too late. Too late for love and children. Too late to build the kind of family she'd never known. But how do you force yourself to fall in love? To see hope when you feel none?

If only she's known her mother. A woman needed a mother at a time like this. But Renee Dwyer Swan had died twenty-nine years ago, when Bella had been a baby. Bella had never known her, not even through loving tales from her father. Charles Swan never talked about his late wife, he'd never told Bella sweet bedtime stories about her mother. Bella suspected he had loved her too much, and even something as simple as talking to his daughter about the woman he had lost was more than he could bear.

The knowledge that love could be so powerful scared her. Loving and losing Mike had almost destroyed her. Maybe that was one of the reasons she had kept men and love at bay for so long. She was in control at all times. If a love like that were ever to grip her again, would she still be in control?

Her father had tried, more than once, to introduce her to men he thought suitable. Those he presented were all sons of Prieaian friends or the friends themselves. Older men Charlie Swan thought would make fitting husbands. He expected Bella to deny her American mother, to forget that she had been born and raised right here in Washington, and become a proper Prieaian woman.

She had never been able to make her father understand that it was too late. After her mother's death, he had left her care to a series of nannies and then sent her away to school as soon as she was old enough. She could never understand how he could expect her to become the kind of traditional daughter he wanted her to be.

Old-world men, like her father and Prince Edward Cullen, had little time for an independent woman. Dinner was going to be a disaster.

"Wear the blue dress," Angela said, her smile drifting back.

"I don't think so."

"But you look fabulous in the blue dress!" Angela argued.

"I don't want to look fabulous," Bella argued.

"Yes, you do," Angela said as she turned to return to her desk.

"Don't."

"Do!" Angela said as she left the office.

Bella waited until the door as closed before she whispered, not very convincingly. "Don't."

**AN: I hope you like and please REVIEW.**


	5. Spying!

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Stephanie Meyer and Linda Winstead Jones do. **

**AN: Thanks guys for the support. And just to let you know that i am resubmitting the chapters from before with the changes which are not many, and when i am back to where i was before the chapters should be longer.**

**  
Chapter Four – Spying!**

Edward, dressed in a black pair of jeans and a band shirt would look to be less distinguished than his green robes he would normally be wearing. He lay belly down on a hill about a quarter mile from the refinery. He studied the place from top to bottom and side to side, looking for signs of unusual activity.

There were none, and no sign of unusually tight security, either. He saw no armed guards, nothing resembling a military-like force.

But then, any such measures would be well hidden. This was a working refinery, and at least some, likely most, of the people there were not involved with or even aware of the Brothers in their midst.

The Swan Oil Refinery covered a square mile at least. Steam rose from gray stacks, and the fenced refinery area housed cooling towers, storage tanks, a water treatment plant, the refinery's own fire brigade, a special lot for cranes and forklifts, a number of warehouses, a machine shop, and sever admin buildings. Beyond the last row of storage tanks was the refinery water access. A barge sat there in the bay, waiting.

Where would they hide a prince? He scanned the length of the refinery, taking in the barbed wire-topped fence, the padlocked gates and the windowless outbuildings. They could hide the prince any one of a thousand places, he imagined.

Carlisle had married Princess Esme Black a few months earlier. Prince Jacob, if they found him alive, would be Carlisle's brother-in-law. Family. Uncle to the same child Edward was uncle to. Even a year ago, that would have been unthinkable, but now…things had changed. Relations between Volterra and La Push were healing. But there was still a long was to go.

Seeing nothing suspicious, Edward shifted focus to the office building that sat approximately a half a mile to the north of the refinery. His gaze raked up the three-story building to the top floor, where he easily found Isabella Swan's window. He smiled, remembering their meeting. He had never met a woman like her, of that he was certain. It was more than her unusual position that piqued his interest, more than her beauty. She was a fascinating woman; her eyes full of sweet secrets and tantalizing promise one moment, hard and strictly business the next. He could not wait to get her away form the office.

Yes, this was a job. A mission. He had to find out what Bella knew, had to use her to get to the information he needed. But when that was done…

As he moved the binoculars down, he caught sight of movement in the parking lot, and re-focused his attention there. A man in a rumpled suit, he realized with disappointment, making his way to his car at the end of the work day.

But two women left shortly after the man. Bella and her secretary, talking animatedly, walked side by side across the parking lot. Edward focused on Bella's face, watched her smile at something the secretary said, and then answer with a cavalier wave of her hand. He wished he could read lips. He wanted, so much, to know what she said. Was she talking about their dinner tonight? Or what might come after? She laughed, and her entire face lit up. Ah, that was not the dace of a woman who was talking about oil, or the refining process, or the mundane details involved in the business side of Swan Oil.

When Bella got into her vehicle – a red pickup truck, of all things – and drove off, Edward lowered his binoculars. Their dinner wasn't until eight. He had plenty of time to sneak into the office building, make his way up to Bella's office, and see if he could find anything incriminating on her computer.

He felt almost guilty for deceiving her, but guilt was not an emotion he could afford at the moment.

**AN: There you go. Review. **

**Thanks guys**

**Mystik**


	6. Dinner & Dancing!

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Stephanie Meyer and Linda Winstead Jones do. **

**Chapter Five – Dinner & Dancing!**

Angela had made reservations at the most extravagant restaurant in the area, darn her hide. La Bella's was expensive, but Bella had never heard anyone complain. The food was always excellent, the music soft and soothing, the lighting romantically dim. And besides, everyone loved La Bella. Even on a Tuesday night, the place was bound to be crowded.

Bella left her truck with the valet and headed toward the front entrance, her heart in her throat. If there had been any diplomatic way to get out of this dinner, she would have found it. She approached the entrance to La Bella's as she would the doorway to any other business meeting. Determined to be as tough as any man. Knowing that she had to work twice as hard as everyone else to prove that she was worthy of her place at Swan Oil.

The door swung open as she reached it, and she stepped inside, glancing up at the man who had opened the door for her. She was completely unprepared for the sight of Edward Cullen in an expensive black suit, his longish bronze hair unkempt, his smile as wicked as ever. She had been expecting the traditional dress he'd worn this afternoon, but for tonight he had opted for something even more striking Black and white simplicity – a well-cut suit that must have been made to fit him and a white shirt with a high collar, no tie. He looked even broader than he had earlier that day, more imposing.

He took her arm. "You should always wear Blue," he said softly. "It suits you."

Bella cursed herself silently. She should not have worn the blue, she knew that now. She should have worn any one of the dresses she had tried on and discarded. Ever other nice dress she owned was still there in her bedroom, tossed across her bed. Some of those dresses she had tried on twice, in attempt to come up with the perfect outfit for the evening. Angela had cursed her in suggesting the blue. It was a tad to snug, a tad too low-cut. And the blue heels that matched the dress were just a tad too high. The Black, she decided too late. The baggy black knit that hung below her knees and came up to her throat, that the dress she should have worn tonight.

"Thank you, Mr. Cullen," she said politely, rather than contending aloud that she should not have worn red.

"Edward," he insisted, leaning down to place his face just a bit too close to hers, invading her space without actually being too forceful. Her heart kicked, just a little. The room turned just a little bit too warm.

"Edward," she repeated, giving in too easily. How was she to maintain a strictly business relationship with this man when he looked at her like this? She tried to strengthen her resolve by reminding herself that when they'd met he'd been sure she was a secretary. And even afterward, when he'd known who she was, he'd asked who actually did all the work. It should be easy to maintain her distance from a man whose thinking was so antiquated.

And then he smashed her resolve with words that had nothing to do with business.

"I like the way you say my name," he said with a smile that was surely illegal in some countries. "You say it… differently."

"It's my accent," she confessed. "I'm surprised you like it. My father hates my accent." It was a personal confession, one better left unsaid, and she realized it, too late.

"I adore your voice. It's very soft and…slow. Not too soft or too slow, but warm and welcoming."

He seemed sincere. Perhaps she had been hasty in putting him in the same category as her constantly disapproving father.

Heads turned as Edward escorted her to their table. Of course heads turned. There weren't many men like this in Forks, Washington. Or anywhere else, she imagined. He seemed unaware of the stir he caused, or maybe he was accustomed to being the center of attention. He didn't even seem to notice the eyes that followed them across the room to a secluded table by the window that looked out over a rambling, overgrown garden.

The casual hairstyle Edward wore suited him, Bella decided as he held her chair out for her. The long. Bronze waved that touched his collar and brushed his cheek made him look like a pirate, or a warrior prince. She half expected to spot a gold loop dangling from one ear, or a hint of an exotic tattoo crawling up his neck from beneath his starched collar. She saw neither, of course, and dismissed her fanciful musings with a shake of her head.

Edward Cullen liked her accent, or so he said. He himself had almost no accent at all. If not for just a hint of formality in the way he formed his words, you wouldn't know English wasn't his first language. Determined not to like him too much, Bella decided he must be one of those annoying men to whom everything came easily. Knowledge. Money. And women.

Her neck prickled in warning. She couldn't allow herself to be sucked in by his charm, good looks, and killer smile. She did not give in easily. In fact, she did not give in at all.

As he took the chair across from her, she steeled her spine. "Mr. Cullen," she began. "Edward," she corrected herself when he opened his mouth to protest. "I want to be up-front with you. While I think a partnership with the Cullen family would be a wonderful idea, a real coup from Swan Oil, I have to tell you, it will take some persuasion to get my father to agree."

He didn't seem at all disturbed by this news. In fact, he smiled and leaned in her direction. The table was between them; still it seemed he moved too close. "Must we discuss business tonight?" he asked softly.

Her heart skipped a beat. If they didn't discuss business what on earth would they talk about? "I thought business was the reason for your visit. And for this dinner, as well."

Edward laid hooded Green eyes on her face. "Business can wait until tomorrow. Tonight I am having dinner with a beautiful woman, and I have no desire… to discuss oil refineries."

God, the man had a smile that would stop traffic. "All right," she said, taking a deep breath. Perhaps you can toll me about Volterra. From what little I know, it's a beautiful country."

"It is," he said. "And you must tell me all about Washington." Bella nodded. This conversation she could live with. As long as he didn't smile at her like that again…

"I ordered for you," he said. "I hope you don't mind." He'd ordered for her? Of course she minded. It was an outrageously presumptuous action. "That depends on what you ordered."

"The Mushroom Ravioli, a pitcher of coke and the chocolate mousse for dessert."

She relaxed. All her favourites. "You talked to Angela, didn't you?"

He nodded. "I called your office this afternoon, after you and your secretary…"

"Assistant," Bella interrupted.

"After you and your assistant left for the day," Edward finished, perhaps just a little amused. "The woman who answered the phone was kind enough to give me your assistant's home phone number. I hope you don't mind."

How could she mind? It would be unreasonable to be irritated because a man went to the trouble to find out what she liked to eat. "Of course not." But she would have to have a word with Stephanie, who usually worked until seven and knew better than to give out Angela's home phone number. At least she now knew that the prince could be as charming on the phone as he was in person.

"Volterra," she said, anxious to change the subject. "Tell me about your home."

***** (AN: I was going to leave it there but I am trying to write a little bit more.)**

Edward had arrived at the restaurant frustrated. The Swan Oil Refinery business office had been too busy for him to sneak into after Bella's departure. People working late came and went with too much regularity for him to make his way unnoticed up to the third floor. He had been able to get a closer look at their security system, though. There were cameras posted at all entrances and exits, but he now knew their positions and they could be avoided.

Tonight, if at all possible, he would sneak into the building and search Bella's office.

He'd called the restaurant from his hotel, requesting a secluded table and ordering dinner so they would not have to wait. He wanted this evening to proceed smoothly, Bella had arrived at the restaurant moments after Edward, and he's stood in the doorway and watched as she stepped down from that pickup truck that did not suit her. Her vehicle was not sleek, or feminine, or sexy. It was practical and boxy. Perhaps that was the woman she wanted to be, but she could not fool him. She was much more complicated than her truck implied.

At that moment, as Bella had emerged from the red truck his frustration had fled. And he had become absolutely fascinated.

When she was silent, Bella Swan looked like any other exotic beauty. Great cheekbones, captivating eyes, luscious mouth, and a perfectly formed body he had to make an effort not to stare at. Put her in shalwar kames and a veil and she would make an ideal Arabian princess. He could see her in green and gold. Green to bring out her eyes. Gold at her throat, her wrists, and in her hair, to accent the warmth of her skin.

But when Bella spoke, she was all-American. Intelligent outspoken, full of curiosity and a bright love for life. He adored her voice, and the way she gestured with her hands when she spoke. The first time he had made her laugh – a wonderful full, deep laugh – he had been struck with the need to make her do it again. More than anything, he wanted to see her face break into that amazing grin. One more time.

For a little while, he almost forgot that he was here to spy on her. They shared a tasty dinner at a private table. He talked about his family, at her urging, and she talked about Washington. The time flew by, and he only wanted more. More time, more laughter. More Bella.

No matter what, he could not forget why he was here. There was more at stake than his fascination with a beautiful woman. The world was full of beautiful women. He knew that well.

Dinner had been delicious, the conversation had been delightful, and now it was time to move on. He was not ready to let Bella go. Not yet.

"Dance with me," he said. Rising to his feet and offering his had. A combo had been playing for the past half hour. Their music low and ordinary, softly unobtrusive. Since the first note, he had wanted to take Bella in his arms and dance with her. A few couples danced on the small dance floor, occasionally talking as they moved in time with the music.

Bella stared up at him and raised her finely shaped eyebrows, "Excuse me?"

"I asked…" Ah, he had not asked, he had commanded. It was a bad habit of his, or so his sisters told him. "Would you please dance with me, Isabella Swan?"

She laid her hand in his and stood. "Of course," she said sweetly, "But if you want to dance in Washington, you really must go to the Port Angeles Ballroom."

"Why is that?" he asked as he led her to the dance floor. She walked close beside him, fitting well at his side.

"Because while this is very nice, it isn't at all dancing." At the edge of the polished floor, she turned to face him and lay her hand on his shoulder.

"Perhaps you will take me while I am here."

"Perhaps," she said, sounding uncertain as they began to move to the slow music. She kept her body away from hi moving stiffly, making sure there was a decent space between them. Her eyes remained on his chest, perhaps his chin. She definitely did not care to look him in the eye.

He should leave things as they were. Friendly but not intimate. Casual. He wanted her to relax with him, not be on guard whenever he was near. In order to glean the information he needed, he might need to earn her trust. A friend was easier for a woman to trust than a man who had his sights set on having her in his bed.

But he didn't think they could be friends. His fingers resting at the small of her back, raked casually along her spine. She shivered. Deep and subtly, but he felt it. Already he was in tune with her. He could almost feel her heartbeat. Bella was delicate, at moments almost fragile, and still she had an unexpected strength about her.

As they made a slow turn, their bodies moving in sync, he pulled her close. The pressure he exerted was easy, gently even, but Bella had no choice but to rest her body against his. For a very brief moment she resisted, her muscles tensing and her breath catching, and then she relaxed. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her hips aligned to his. After another moment, her head dropped to his shoulder. Soft and gentle, she rested against him.

He wanted her. He didn't care that she knew he wanted her. Nothing could happen, nothing could come of this, but he wouldn't deny that already this woman had slipped under his skin.

"I envy you," she whispered.

"Why?"

"Your brother, yours sisters." He felt her breath, warm and intimate on his shoulder. "You parents. They way you talked about them tonight, it's clear you're very close. That's nice."

"I told you," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "My father and I argue all the time."

She didn't respond, but continued to dance as if the exchange had not taken place.

So Edward pressed. "You said nothing about your family. I know your father owns the refinery. What about your mother?"

"She died when I was a baby," Bella said, her voice low.

"You were an only child?"

She nodded

"How?" he asked. "How did she die?"

"Car accident." Bella said. "She just… lost control and ran off the road. I don't know anything about her, except for how she died. My father didn't like to talk about her, and I eventually learned not to ask. It hurts him too much to talk about her, so I don't know anything about her life. What she liked, what she didn't like, if she wanted more children." Her fingers rocked absently against him. "All I have is this one picture that I found in an old box of photos, years ago. I hid it, because I was afraid that if my father knew I had that picture he'd take it away."

Bella lifted her head and looked him in the eye, at last. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for the conversation to turn maudlin. I'm tired. It's been a long day." She tried a smile that didn't have its usual brilliance. "Maybe we should call it a night."

Edward didn't want to let her go, but in truth he still had to check out her office before he could even thing about going to bed. "If you wish."

He saw it again, that vulnerability Bella tried so hard to hide. She might be CEO of an oil refinery; she might be a modern, liberated woman. But she was also a woman who had secrets. A woman who needed a friend.

"Bella," he said gently, not stopping the dance just yet. "Is there a man in your life?"

Something on her face hardened, just slightly. "Why do you ask?"

"Tonight was supposed to be about business, an apology for my blunder this afternoon. But if I want to see you tomorrow night, and the night after that, and the night after that… I was wondering if I should be looking over my shoulder for an angry suitor."

"No," she said, the tension in her face softening. A little. "No one to look over your shoulder for."

He smiled at her. "Good."

"Don't do that," she said, bringing the dance to an end and dropping her hand from his shoulder.

"Don't do what?" He didn't release her. Not yet.

She sighed and did not answer. "You know, it might not be a good idea for us to… do this every night."

"Do what?"

"Socialize."

She was right, of course. He already felt too close to her. Too close to do his job? No, of course not. Close enough to make his assignment more difficult? Possibly. "Think of our time together as an opportunity to acquaint a visitor and potential investor to your state. Show me Washington, Bella. Take me to this Forks Ballroom and any other place you think I should see. Who knows, if I invest in your refinery I might be compelled to take up residence here in Washington."

Bella smiled and shook her head. "I can't see you living here."

"Why not?"

"Forks is much too tame for you, I suspect."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"Tomorrow morning," she said, stepping back so he had no choice but to release her. "Eight o'clock at the office."

"And tomorrow night?"

She turned her back on him, and as she circled about he heard her say, "We'll see."

**AN: There you go. See ya. Review. Also just a little note, all will be revealed by the end. At the moment i can not say how many chapters but it will be revealed soon... **

**Thanks guys...**

**Mystik**


	7. The Phone Calls!

**AN: Hey guys. I hope all is well and everyone is liking this, please review it would be nice to know how many actually do like this story. Also on another note i am looking for a beta. Contact me if your interested. Thanks now on with the story...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Stephanie Meyer and Linda Winstead Jones do. **

**Chapter Six – The Phone Calls**

There were five messages on her answering machine. All from Angela. Each message said the same thing, in varying degrees of urgency. "Call me when you get in, no matter what time it is."

Bella kicked off her shows and walked toward the kitchen with a smile on her face. Tired as she was, she knew she wouldn't be falling asleep anytime soon. A diet coke and a few pages of the book she'd been reading, maybe that would stop her head from spinning.

Edward Cullen was everything she did not want in a man. Volterran, for one, an old-world man like her father. Oh, the was of another generation, but he still had those archaic ideas about women, she was sure. He had been absolutely shocked to find that a woman was CEO. What on earth would he expect of a woman he was involved with?

Not only that, he was one of those demanding types. He didn't ask, he commanded. _Dinner tonight. Dance with me._ Another annoying trait of an old-fashioned man who expected his women to obey his every word. Heaven forbid that a female should have an opinion.

And he was too good-looking. Guys who looked like that were never easy to get along with. They were too accustomed to getting their way with a smile that made women's insides go topsy-turvy and their brains go to mush. Add to that fact that he was a prince, a Volterran prince, and you had a guy who was most definitely accustomed to getting his way. He had probably never heard the word "no."

So who did she like him anyway? Why was she actually considering seeing him again tomorrow night, and the night after that, and every night until he flew back to Volterra?

"Bella," she said to herself. "Looks like you're a sucker for a pretty face, after all." She shook her head in disgust. While she stood with her head in the refrigerator, the phone rang. She snagged a caffeine-free diet soda and reached for the wall phone as the refrigerator door swung closed.

"Hello."

"You didn't call me!" Angela said accusingly.

Bella laughed. "I just walked in the door."

"Is he with you?" her friend whispered.

"No! Of course not."

Angela sighed. "Too bad. Well, other than the fact that you came home alone, did you have a good time?"

"Yes." Bella said, a wide smile spreading across her face. "It was very…nice." Very nice. Nicer than she'd expected.

"Nice. Is that the best you can do? Did you wear the Blue dress?"

"Yes."

"Did he love it?"

Bella smiled. "I think so." Her smile died. What was she thinking? Edward Cullen was a playboy, and she was the first woman he'd met in Texas. If he was trying to romance her at all, it was probably so she'd be receptive to his business proposal. She was such a putz! "But it was just dinner," she said, trying to sound distanced and cool. "Tomorrow things will be strictly business again."

"Now, that's a shame," Angela said.

"Good night," Bella said firmly. "See you in the morning." She hung up the phone and opened her diet soda. She had taken one swallow before the phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Are you sure that hunk didn't come home with you?" Angela said. "He's standing right there, isn't he? He's probably got his hands all over you, while you're pretending to be alone. You're just trying to get rid of me so you two can have a _really_ good time."

Bella laughed. "Good night, Angela." She hung up without waiting for another question from her nosy friend.

Almost immediately, the phone rang again. Frustrated. Bella picked up the receiver. "No," she snapped, "I did not bring the hunk home with me. No, he is not standing here with his hands all over me. Yes, I had a good time, but it wasn't the kind of _good time_ you're thinking about. For God's sake, Angela, if you think the man is that desperate and needy, _you_ jump his bones."

She waited for Angela's usual tart response, but all was silent. Someone, not Angela, breathed. Her heart fell. Oh, no.

"I just wanted to make sure you got home all right," Edward's deep voice crooned in to the phone.

Bella closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "Yeah, thanks." Should she try to explain?

"I had a wonderful time tonight."

"Me, too." Until I embarrassed myself over the telephone…

"You are a very good dancer."

Bless him, he was going to ignore what she'd said when she'd answered the phone. "You, too." Her body relaxed, and she almost melted against the wall.

"And Bella," Edward continued in a lowered voice. "I am not desperate _or_ needy, but if you would like to…jump my bones. I'd be happy to cooperate."

Crap. "Angela called a couple of times," Bella said softly. "When the phone rang I thought… it was just… I didn't mean…"

"Good night, Bella," Edward said, saving her from her ramblings. Heavens, she could hear the smile in his voice. It lingered, even after he hung up the phone.

**AN: Hehe. Don't you love Edward? Review please.  
**


	8. Very Untraditional Dinner!

**AN: Hey guys, sorry i haven't updated in a couple of days. Been busy with end of term exams, now i have two weeks holidays i should get a fair bit of this done now that i have a bit more time.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Stephanie Meyer and Linda Winstead Jones do. **

**Chapter Eight – Very Untraditional Dinner!**

He followed Bella's directions, turning onto a two-lane side road. She had protested when he'd insisted on driving, but had quickly given in. He could see why she likes the pickup truck. It was a powerful vehicle.

As she had in her office today, before donning the black coveralls for their excursion to the refinery, she wore blue jeans and boots. The blue jeans she wore tonight were softer then those she had worn to the office. They molded to her legs in a most tantalizing way, as if they caressed her skin the way he longed to. The boots she wore this evening were low-slung leather boots that looked well-worn, rather than bulky steel-toed boots. Instead of a prim work shirt, she wore a lightweight blue-green sweater, a form fitting top suited to the mild April weather. That sweater didn't disguise her delicate shape the way the coveralls had.

Bella's hair had been brushed back, away from her beautiful face, and she wore a little makeup. A hint of turquoise eye shadow, a touch of pink lipstick. She had no idea how beautiful she was.

"Where are we going?" he asked again.

She pointed. "Just ahead."

He saw the parking lot she gestured to, a gravel lot crowded with pickup trucks and minivans and cars. The building was ordinary. In fact, it was no nicer than Bella's own warehouses at the refinery. A red neon sign flashed outside the large concrete block building. _Sue's Barbecue._ The _be_ in the middle of barbecue had burned out, so when the lights flashed on it actually read _Sue's Bar cue_.

He pulled the pickup truck into a space near the door, and turned to Bella. "Are you certain this is the right place?"

She gave him a blinding smile. "Trust me."

Some spy he was. He did trust Bella, and he had absolutely nothing to go on but his gut instincts.

The interior of the restaurant was a little better than the outside. Fat blue-padded boots lined the walls, and rough hewn wooden tables, round and square, were scattered throughout the large, open, middle section. A jukebox against one wall played a twangy county-western tune, and there were so many people talking the room hummed with its own dull roar.

The hostess greeted them with a wide smile. "My goodness! We haven't seen you in ages." She gave Edward a quick, calculating once-over, and then an approving smile. "A booth or a table?"

"A booth, if you have one available," Bella answered.

They followed the hostess across the room, and she tossed two menus on the table and told them the waitress would be by soon. As she left, she winked at Bella.

"She is a friend?" Edward asked, leaning over the table.

"No," Bella said. "I just know her from the times I've eaten here."

"She seems very friendly."

"She is. Most of the people around here are."

Edward reached for the menu, but Bella playfully snatched it out from under him.

"Uh-uh," she said with a smile. "Tonight _I _order for _you_."

He settled back in his cushioned seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "Very untraditional," he said softly.

"Do you mind?"

He knew if he insisted, she would give him a menu and allow him to order for himself. "Not at all."

A waitress appeared and Bella, without so much as glancing at the menu, ordered two barbecue beef plates, tea and chocolate pie.

Tea. Thank goodness. He hadn't had a decent cup of hot tea since arriving in Evangeline.

He had seen nothing today to make him think The Volturi were active at the Swan Oil Refinery, though that was far from conclusive. He'd only seen a portion of the plant. It was spread over more than a square mile, and he had only been inside a few of the buildings. There had been a large number of Arab faces at the refinery, but since he'd seen Bella's personnel files he'd expected that. Since the plant ran on twelve-hour shifts, four days on and four off alternating day shift to night shift, he had only seen one quarter of her people.

"Are many of your employees from Priea?" he asked, forcing himself to remember why he was here.

Bella nodded, not at all disturbed by the question. "Yes. My father insists on hiring as many Prieaians as possible." She set very serious eyes on him. "The economy in my father's home country is not as prosperous as that of your own."

She did not say what she had to be thinking, that Volterra's prosperity was thanks in part to the oil fields that some of her countrymen, The Volturi included, considered their own, thanks to early Prieaian settlers on the productive land.

"Many of our employees send most of their paycheck home, while others bring their families here."

He nodded, as if it were unimportant. "It seems to work well. If what I saw today is any indication, the refinery runs quite smoothly.

"We have our bad days," she said with a wry smile. "But for the most part I've been very pleased."

"Does your father spend much time at the refinery?" He couldn't push, but he needed to meet Charles Swan. Bella was CEO, but she was still a woman. There was no way she would be trusted with the secrets of The Volturi. If she didn't lead him where he needed to go perhaps her father would.

"Some," she said. "Not a lot. Believe it or not, he does have faith in the way I run the company."

He couldn't help but smile at her. "Most CEO's don't spend much time in the refinery. But everyone on site seems to know you well."

"I'm there almost every day," she said.

"Why?"

She shrugged gently. "Some of the guys call me a maverick. Others think I'm trying to hard to prove myself being a woman in a man's business."

"Are either of these accusations true?"

"Both of them, to some extent," she admitted. She laid expressive brown eyes on his face, and her expression turned serious. "But the real truth is, that refinery is all I've got."

"I find that had to believe." Bella should have suitors he had to fight off to spend time with her, a family, and an exciting life outside the mundane workings of the plant.

"Sad but true." She tried for a lighthearted tone, resting her arms on the table that stretched between them. "I don't want to talk about the refinery all night," she said, baldly changing the subject. "Tell me more about your sisters."

He saw that Bella was envious of his family, that she got some small pleasure from hearing him talk about his siblings and his parents. So he told her little stories about his sisters, small moments he had forgotten about until Bella revived the memories with her questions.

Their dinner arrived, and the waitress plopped two platters laden with for on the table, and then set hug glasses of tea beside the platters. Ice floated in the tea.

"It's not hot," he said needlessly.

"No it's not." She lifted her own glass and took a swallow.

He lifted his glass and followed her example, and almost spewed tea across the table. "And it's full of sugar!"

"Welcome to the West," she said as she placed her glass aside. "This is tea as it was meant to be. Cold, sweet and strong."

He took another drink. Now that he knew what to expect, the iced tea wasn't so bad. In fact, it was very good.

"Delicious," he finally admitted. "Different, but I think I could get used to this. But while I'm here, I'm going to teach you to make proper Arabian coffee."

"You don't like Angela's special blend?"

"No. It's much too weak. Have you ever had Arabian coffee?"

She shook her head.

"Tomorrow," he said, picking up his fork to dig into his meal. "I will find the proper pot and ingredients, and on Friday morning I'll bring it to your office and show you how it's done. Once you have a decent cup of coffee, you'll never be satisfied with anything else." He laid his eyes on her face, on her mother and then her eyes. "Once you've had the best, nothing else will satisfy."

She gave him a strange look, no doubt wondering if his thoughts had strayed from coffee to something else entirely. Of course they had, but he would never admit it. The expression on his face remained completely innocent.

**AN: OK, there you go. Please review.**


	9. Dad!

**AN: Here is the second chapter that i am going to put up today.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Stephanie Meyer and Linda Winstead Jones do. **

**Chapter Nine – Dad!**

Bella arrived at the office prepared to knock out a few mundane chores before Edward arrived. He would stop by her office later in the day, since he had several errands to run this morning. He'd be searching for his Arabian coffee and pot, she imagined. She'd told him he'd probably have to drive to Seattle to do his shopping, but he hadn't seemed to mind. She'd expected that he'd simply call someone at the hotel and farm the chore out, but he'd seemed determined to find what he was looking for himself.

Edward always surprised her. She'd expected a brainless playboy and found a mechanical engineer. She'd expected a macho jerk, and while he did have his moments, he was also a good listener and a fun date.

No, she amended with a shudder. _Not_ a date. Their dinners together had been strictly business. So what if they hadn't talked business much at all, or if they'd ended the evening walking by the bay? He'd even taken her hand once, but that hadn't been at all romantically motivated.

She'd been about to step on a discarded beer bottle, and he'd spotted it and guided her aside. What difference did it make that he'd held her hand just a few minutes longer than necessary?

Bella was unable to get directly to work, as she had planned. When she got to the office, Angela was hard at work, and her office door was open. That could only mean one thing.

"Dad," she said, stepping into her office to find her father sitting at her desk. As usual, Charles Swan was dressed in a custom-fitted dark gray suit. Though he would deny it, he was vain enough to think the well-cut jacket made him look slimmer and taller. It didn't. He was less than an inch taller than Bella, and had been stocky all his life. His hair, almost completely gray now, had been neatly cut and styled, and his white beard was trimmed short. A smoking cigarette hung from his fingers. As always, he completely ignored the No Smoking signs that were posted throughout the building. "What brings you into the office this morning?"

He raked his eyes up and down her, taking in the blue jeans. Work boots and man-style button-up shirt she wore. He did not approve of her attire – he never had – but he no longer argued with her about the subject. "Do you always arrive so late, these days?"

It was seven-fifteen, hardly late. "I had a long day yesterday."

He nodded and stood crisply. "How was your meeting with Prince Edward?"

"Fine. He's much more knowledgeable about the business than I expected he would be." She said, opting not to include their after-hours meetings in her report.

"Is he gone?"

"No. He wants to see more of the operations. I expect him here later today."

Charlie Swan was a hard man. It was his nature, or so Bella told herself when she longed for a more tender, loving father. "Show him around the refinery, entertain him if you must. When all is said and done, if he makes an offer you will decline."

"But I think it might be good for the company…"

"I will not do business with the royal family of Volterra," he interrupted, all but snorting as he stepped away from her desk.

Her father frustrated her, and had for years. "Then why agree to the meeting in the first place? Why waste my time?"

He gave her a tight smile. "By the time I learned of the meeting, you had already accepted. To decline at that point would have been unwise. Humour the boy, be hospitable, but when all is said and done if he still wants to invest in the refinery, find something wrong with his offer." He patted her on the cheek as he passed. "You will think of a good reason to decline, I am sure."

Bella nodded, but she wasn't thinking of ways to get rid of Edward, she was already thinking of arguments that might sway her father. If she could convince him that a partnership with Edward would be good for Priea as well as Swan Oil, would he change his mind?

"Would you mind if I invite a few friends out to your ranch tonight?" he asked as he reached the doorway.

"Of course not," she said. "I only use it on the weekends, so no one will be there to disturb you." The ranch was a fairly new purchase, less than two years old and the result of the glaring knowledge that outside the business Bella had no life. Now she had a small ranch house an hour's drive from Forks, as well as three horses, and she employed an old couple tat ran the place as they had for the people who'd owned the ranch before her. Since Wilson and May Carlton had their own cottage away from the main house, Bella had the place to herself when she went there to unwind on the weekends.

In the doorway, her father turned and smiled. "James and Caius enjoy the fresh air away from the city, and Marcus has a special liking for your housekeeper's pound cake."

"I'll call May and make sure she had some made for the evening."

"Aro will be joining us. Do you remember Aro?"

Of course she did, Bella thought with a shudder. Three years ago her father had actually suggested that she and his friend Aro marry. He had not been pleased when she'd refused him outright. It had been, in fact, the biggest fight they'd ever had.

"We're going to play poker," he continued, "but you know we will not play for money."

"I know." She had given her father his own key to the ranch house, but he always stopped by or called when he wanted to use it. Not to be polite, she knew, but to make sure she would not be there. He did not mind allowing his Americanized daughter to run the business, since she was good at her job, but in the social circles that included his old-world friends she was a disgrace. When she'd been a year old he had given her care over to nannies with an instruction. And yet he sometimes expected her to be the daughter he would have had if she had been born and raised in Priea. And he didn't seem to see the unfairness in the expectation.

"The new contracts should be ready to sign next week." He always liked to look over their contracts with new companies, have his lawyer approve them, and then give them his own seal of approval.

"Good. When?"

"Monday morning," she said. "They'll be ready by nine."

He nodded absently, an ignored Angela as he breezed out of the office, leaving a trail of cigarette smoke in his path. After the elevator in the hallway whished open and closed, Angela stopped pounding her keyboard and lifted a smiling face to Bella.

"So?"

"He wants to use the ranch…"

"No, no," Angela interrupted. "Last night. Did you finally get lucky?"

"Angela!" Bella used her best "Boss" voice. "I'm sure you have better things to do than quiz me about my love life." Or lack thereof.

"That's a no," Angela said, shaking her head in despair as she returned to her keyboard.

**AN: Don't you love Angela? I wonder what her father is up to and what he wants to use the ranch for? **

**Please review. I might give you a sneak peek into a chapter in to the future... Adios. Mystik  
**


	10. Fire!

**AN: Hey guys. Thank You to all that have review, added me or my story to alerts and favourites, it gives me a good feeling. Well i won't say anything else. Keep up with the reviews and i will give out a sneak peek.**

**cya Mystik.**

** As promised a longer chapter. I will try to keep the chapters long but some times i won't be able. ****So on with the story...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. **

**Chapter Ten – The Fire**

Edward leaned into the three-sided phone booth, trying to cut off the dull roar of mall noise surrounding him. The phone rang twice, before Carlisle answered. It was 7.00 p.m. in Volterra, but Edward's elder brother had been waiting for this call. Since cell phones were notoriously unsecured, Carlisle had suggested they communicate by pay phone rather than depend on international cell transmissions.

"How are you?" Carlisle asked, his voice low and obviously concerned.

"I'm fine," Edward said. "I've seen the plant. I haven't found any concrete information yet, but there are a large number of Prieaians employed at the refinery. I'll be there again this afternoon. Carlisle," he added sharply. "I.M. Swan is a _woman_."

There was a pause, a second or two of complete silence. "A woman?"

"Yes. What wonderful intelligence I was given."

"There was no time…" Carlisle began.

Edward grinned, glancing around to see if anyone was paying attention to his phone call. No one seemed to care. "I know," he interrupted as Carlisle made excuses for their poor intelligence. Edward knew and understood the reasoning behind going into this mission almost blind. "She's not involved, I'm sure of it. I broke into her office to search…"

"You did what?" Carlisle snapped. "You're not trained for that. You are there to collect information. Nothing more. If you find any concrete proof that The Volturi are indeed using the Swan refinery as a base, you call me and then you get out."

Edward's smile faded. Nothing had changed. He would always be the second-born, the son you could never count on. The family black sheep. "I can hardly expect the Brothers to walk up to me and introduce themselves."

"Of course not," Carlisle said, his voice calmer than it had been before. "Just be careful. Don't try to be a hero, Edward."

"Don't worry."

He hung up a moment later, scooped his bag of purchases from the ground at his feet, and headed through the mall and out the wide door to his leased Aston Martin. Before he went to Bella's office, he would swing by the car lot and make an exchange. The Aston Martin was fast and sleek, but what he really wanted was a Volvo inconspicuous.

Edward's conversation with Carlisle had disturbed him, but he calmed himself with thoughts of Swan Oil's CEO. Her face, the way she laughed, the way she moved with grace and strength. Last night he had been tempted to tell Bella everything. He had felt an urge to tell her why he was here, to warn her that someone was using her refinery as a front for a terrorist organization. He'd also been tempted to tell her that in spite of everything, he wanted her in a way he had never wanted another woman.

It was the gun that stopped him, he supposed. The pistol in her desk drawer was out of character with the woman he thought he knew, an unpleasant surprise. No matter how much he wanted to, he could not absolutely rule out the possibility that Bella was somehow involved. In telling her why he was here he might put her, and himself, and the prince in mortal danger. Until he knew more, he could say nothing.

As Edward flew out of the mall parking lot, his brother's words echoed in his head. _Don't try to be a hero._

***

Again, Edward surprised her. Yesterday he had taken an interest in the workings of the refinery. Today he took an interest in the people. With that charming smile on his face, he made an effort to speak to everyone. Not only that, he lent a hand whenever he could, and it soon became clear that he had participated in every job imaginable at a refinery. From production to maintenance to working the pumps at the dock, he handled everything like a pro.

Everyone liked Edward, even if they obviously started out wanting not to. When he made it clear that he was willing to get his hands dirty, and that he didn't think himself too good to take on any job, they couldn't help but come around.

Her earlier presumption that Edward wanted a piece of this refinery the way he might want a new toy he'd soon tire of had been as wrong as her other suppositions about the Volterran prince.

They walked toward the cafeteria, an uninspired concrete block building that served good, plain feed. It was too late for lunch, but since neither of them had stopped to eat a noon meal they planned to hit the vending machines with a vengeance.

"You have good people working for you," Edward observed as he opened the door for her. There had been a time when she might have protested the macho move, but not today.

"I do," she agreed. The cool of the air-conditioning hit her full force, as the door closed behind Edward. Thy both removed their hard hats and ran fingers through their flattened hair, briefly and unconsciously.

"Your plant manager, Emmet McCarty, he has been with you a long time?"

"Forever." She smiled widely. "I wasn't always CEO you know. Emmet was always great. He never cut me any slack when I worked for him, and he doesn't resent the fact that he now works for me." They stepped into the small room where the vending machines stood, lined against the walls, and they both dumped their hard hats and started digging in their pockets for change. "He really knows what he's doing."

"I can tell."

"I don't know what I'd do without him."

They chose different machines and started feeding in coins. She went for juice and crackers, Edward went for a soda and chips. He started at one side of the room, she started at the other, and they worked their way toward the middle. They both headed for the candy machine at the same time.

Their hips almost touched, and it was Edward who stepped back and indicated, with a wave of his free hand that she should go first. While she dropped her coins, he stepped back and set his soda and chips on a small table. As Bella made her selection, she watched Edward's reflection in the vending machine glass. He crossed his arms, spreading his long legs, and watched her hard, in that intense way he had about him. A man in shapeless black coveralls shouldn't look this way, sexy and tempting and… gorgeous. Bella's heartbeat increased, her mouth went dry.

In all her life, she'd never met a man like this one. She' never thought she would. He made her heart race with a glance, he surprised her, and he shared her passion for this dirty, difficult business. She tried to tell herself all that mean nothing. _Nothing._ He was a prince, a member of a royal family. Eventually, he would return to the world he knew.

She worked for a living. The days were long, the pay excellent, but this was about as far from royalty as you could get. If he was a little bit fascinated with her, it was because in his world women didn't work for a living. And if they did, they certainly didn't dirty themselves doing a man's job. She was a novelty, nothing more.

When she turned back around, candy bar in hand, he grinned at her. It was the grin of a rogue, an easy smile that spoke of an easy life, a bucket of charm, and a way with women.

"You like your chocolate," he said.

"Every woman likes chocolate, pal," she said, forcing her heart back into a normal rhythm. Of course, the women outside Volterra that he knew well probably didn't ea at all. Models, she had read somewhere. Skinny, fat-lipped, fake-breasted models who probably didn't ingest anything but celery ad bottled water.

"Not like you," he said his smile fading as he walked toward her and the vending machine.

She skirted around him and sat at the table where he had left his drink and chips. She had few pleasures in life, and she wasn't about to let a man rob her of one by making her self-conscious.

With his own selection made, Edward sat across the table from her and opened his drink. "So, where will we go tonight?" he asked lowly, even though there was no one else around. Even the larger cafeteria, just down the hall, was deserted at this time of the afternoon.

She started to tell him she had other plans, but didn't Edward would be gone before she knew it, Forks, Washington, and the first woman CEO he'd ever met quickly forgotten.

"How about a picnic on the bay," she suggested.

"There's a nice park just down the road, and with the time change it doesn't get dark until late."

"On one condition," he said. "I bring the food."

"Works for me."

She had just started on her candy bar when the radio that was clipped on her belt came to life. She heard the words no one associated with a refinery ever wants to hear.

"We have a fire in the machine shop," Emmet said in his distinctive deep voice. "I repeat a fire in the machine shop."

Edward was up and out of the room before she was. Bella scooped up both hard hats and followed him at a run. She wouldn't have thought he even knew where the machine shop was, but he ran straight for it. She struggled to keep up.

"Here!" she shouted. When he turned to look at her, she gestured with the hard hat. The last thing she needed was an injured visitor on her hands!

Still at a run he offered his hands. She tossed the hard hat and Edward caught it, but he kept running, the required safety feature dangling from his hand.

There was already a small crowd gathered around the machine shop, which thankfully sat at the edge of the plant and away from the most flammable tanks and the working area where a fire would be disastrous.

The fire brigade had not yet arrived, but it would take a few minutes for those specially trained men to leave their posts and gather their gear from the refinery fire station. They'd better hurry. Black smoke poured from the open door to the windowless shop.

Emmet clapped one of the younger men, a maintenance worker man Eric, on the shoulder.

"It happened really fast," Eric said breathlessly, stopping to cough twice. "Tyler was welding on a piece of pipe and somehow he arced into the parts cleaner."

"He was welding near the solvent basin?" Emmet shouted, his grip on Eric tightening visibly.

"It was just a quick little weld," Eric said, paling.

"He said it wouldn't take any time at all. But he arced into the solvent. It flashed up, and I think it must've ignited some oily rags. Something blew and threw me to the floor. I must've been out for a minute. Because when I cam to the flames were pretty high." He shook his head and looked around "Where is Tyler?" he asked.

Emmet glanced at the crowd that milled safely outside the machine shop, studying the faces there. "He didn't come out with you?"

The kid looked toward the shop. "The smoke was really black. I didn't see or hear him when I came to, so I figured he was already out."

Everyone stared at the smoky doorway. Black smoke billowed through, roiling up and into the once clear air. The fire brigade would be here soon. Soon enough for Tyler?

Edward turned to Bella, tossed her his hard hat, and spun back around before she had any idea what he was thinking. One minute he was studying the smoky doorway like the others who had gathered there, the next he was running into the black smoke. Just before he disappeared, she saw him drop down, trying to stay beneath the worst of the noxious cloud.

Bella threw Edward's hard hat on to the ground and ran toward the door. "Cullen!" she yelled. "Get out of there! Now!"

If he heard her, he ignored the demand. "Stupid, stupid, man!" she muttered. Her eyes remained on the doorway. Fear wasn't something she dealt with on a regular basis, and it made her heart beat too fast, her mouth go dry. Her hands balled into small, tight fists. What if he didn't come out? Nothing was visible beyond the doorway. There was nothing but waves of heat and the black smoke that poured from the machine shop.

Emmet joined her, sidling up beside her with his eyes remaining on the door, "How long do I wait before I send someone in after them?"

"No one else goes in until the fire brigade gets here." She heard them in the background, pulling out from the firehouse in full gear, ready and equipped to fight the fire. "I won't risk another life."

Unless it was her own. If Edward didn't come out of there within the next ten seconds, she might very well run in after him. After all, she couldn't deal with the headaches of a dead prince would bring her. Her heart crawled into her throat. That was just half the reason. She couldn't deal with him going in there and not coming out. For a half second she didn't think like a CEO, she thought like a woman. Edward hadn't even kissed her yet, but she knew he would before he left. She wanted that kiss, even though she knew nothing could come of it. Oh, she was foolish to think something so selfish and small at a time like this! But she couldn't stop. Besides, the world wouldn't be the same without that crooked smile.

"Come on," she whispered under her breath.

As the fire brigade pulled their truck up to the building, Edward emerged from the smoke with an unconscious Tyler dangling from his shoulder. They were both covered with soot and Tyler's clothing was badly singed. They were barely five feet from the doorway when the building was rocked with another explosion, this one strong enough to shake the building and send flames shooting from the doorway and towards the sky.

Trained paramedics saw to Tyler, while Edward brushed them off and ambled toward Bella with a tired grin on his face. A few of the men congratulated and thanked Edward as he passed, a couple of them even patted him on the back, but he never took his eyes from her.

If anyone else had done such a foolishly brace thing, she would start yelling by now, at the top of her lungs. By the time she was finished, the culprit would find himself without a job. But three things stopped her. For one, she was so damned grateful that Edward was unhurt that she couldn't possibly yell at him. Second, he had probably saved Tyler's life. That second explosion had come too soon for the fire brigade.

The third reason surprised her, a little. She had never given much credence to the expectations of the Arab men who worked with and for her. This was not the old world, and they had better not expect her to act as if it were. But in that world, for a man to be publicly scolded by a woman would be considered disgraceful. A woman who dared to disagree was shameful, but to be publicly castigated,,, she wouldn't do that to Edward.

"Are you all right?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Fine," he said, his voice rough from the smoke he had inhaled.

She glanced down. "Your boots are singed."

He followed her gaze. "So they are."

He had actually ran through the fire to reach Tyler, a man he did not even know.

There was no way she could leave. She and Edward stood back and watched the fire brigade do their job. They had been well trained, and the fire was quickly brought under control. Tyler was taken to the hospital, but it appeared that he would be fine. Eric was treated, but didn't need to make a trip to the hospital.

It was an accident that never should have happened. For humanely she didn't have to decide whether to fire Tyler and Eric or just write them up and give them a few days off with no pay. Emmet handled those decisions. She expected the boys could look forward to a few days off, a note in their files, and a stern warning from the plant manager.

Bella waited until the crowd dissipated and only a few members of the fire brigade remained to keep an eye on the hot building, but she left. She and Edward walked towards the parking lot alone.

They had almost reached his newly leased silver Volvo when she finally spoke, her voice low. "If you ever do anything so stupid again, I will personally have your hide."

"Excuse me?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.

"You heard me."

"Yes, but I was wondering what you might do with my hide if it was yours?"

"Don't make light of this," she said sharply. "You could have been killed."

"But I was not."

"But…" As they reached the Volvo, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her around to the driver's side. Here they could not be seen from the active work area of the refinery.

"You were worried about me?" he asked softly, pulling her up against him.

"Of course not, No more worried than I would have been for any one of my men."

"Am I one of your men, Isabella?" He trapped her against the Volvo, his hard body almost touching hers. She had never been more aware of his height, the width of his shoulders and the strength there.

Her heart kicked, her fingers itched to reach out and touch him. She didn't allow herself that luxury. "Edward, this isn't…"

"Right, proper, a good time," he interrupted. "I know. But ever since I cam out of that smoke-filled building and saw you standing there, I've wanted to do this." He lowered his face toward hers. His hand gripped her wrist, his too near body kept her there, trapped against the door of the Volvo. "To be honest, I have wanted to do this for much longer then that, and I do not think I can wait any longer."

Bella knew if she told him to knock it off, he would. All she had to do was whisper, "no," and he would back away before their lips ever touched. She said nothing.

She knew it was coming, she had known for days that this kiss was coming, and still the power of it took her breath away. Nothing touched, but Edward's hand at her wrist and his mouth on hers, and still she felt the kiss everywhere. Inside, outside, all around. It was the kind of kiss that could change a woman, she suspected. Make her want more, make her expect…more.

Edward's mouth moved over hers, the grip at her wrist loosened and his fingers began to rock there. Only vaguely did she realize that he tasted faintly of smoke. Her hand came up to rest on his waist. She needed that touch, to remain grounded while the kiss took her soaring.

Finally he took his mouth away, and when he did he sighed and laid his forehead against hers.

"maybe we should forget about the picnic," she said, trying to sound calm and collected. "You're tired. I'm tired, it's been a very long day."

"No," he whispered, "I'm not going to give up one moment with you, Isabella." No one had ever said her name quiet that way before. Just hearing the sound coming from Edward's mouth made her shiver to the core.

She heard so much in that simple sentence. Edward knew as well as she did, that his time here was going to be short. And like him, she wasn't going to give up one moment for anything in the world.

**AN: So what did you think? Review let me know.**


	11. The Picnic

**AN: Thank you for every one that review my story, and anyone that has read it. This morning i had 1,229 hits.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Stephanie Meyers and Linda Winstead Jones do…**

**Chapter Eleven – The Picnic**

Kissing Bella had been a mistake, he'd known it an instant his lips had met hers. Mistake or not, he couldn't have stopped at that point, any more than he could stop breathing.

When he'd stepped out of that burning building and seen her face, worried and angry and then obviously relieved, he'd known that he couldn't wait much longer to take the kiss that he'd been thinking about for two days now.

After the excitement at the refinery, the fire and the kiss, Bella had gone home and he had returned to his hotel to shower and change clothes. But being apart did nothing to remove her from his mind.

Edward believed in his heart that Bella was not involved with The Volturi, but he had no proof. He was here to spy on her, to learn what he could about the brothers and the location of the prince. If he got involved with her, if he found himself distracted by the beautiful woman and discovered nothing… no one would be surprised in the least. His father would not be surprised by his failure. Even Carlisle, who had told him not to be a hero…

This was his first chance, and perhaps his last, to prove himself, not just to everyone but to himself. He would not fail.

Edward pulled his newly leased Volvo into the hospital parking lot and turned to Bella, who sat so serious in the passenger seat. "Dinner is on ice, so we can stay here as long as you want. I know you're concerned about your employee."

She laid serious, tired eyes on his face. "You don't even know his name, do you? She asked softly. "You saved his life, and you don't know his name."

"I heard someone call him Tyler."

Bella laid her hand on the door handle. "Tyler Crawley. Is father used to work for us, and his brother is on another shift. I practically saw him grow up, first at company picnics and holiday parties, and then on the job." She shook her head. "He's still such a kid."

The young man who had been injured was one of the few Edward had not met yet, since he was in maintenance and spent most of his work days in the machine room. Bella obviously cared about the young man, in the same way she cared for all her employees.

"I'm glad he's going to be all right."

Bella's face softened, and then broke into a small smile. "I called the hospital before you picked me up and talked to Tyler's mother. The doctors say he'll probably be home in a few days. Your quick action saved Tyler from the burns he surely would have suffered if he hadn't gotten out when his did."

"Good."

Her hand rested on the door handle, but she didn't move. Her entire body was tensed visibly. "I can't believe you actually ran into the building."

"You are still angry with me."

"Yes. I am still angry," she said, sounding frustrated. "You could have died in there."

"Tyler surely would have if I hadn't gone in when I did."

The anger on her face faded. "I know but…"

"You take good care of your people," he interrupted. He didn't think Bella would dare to admit that she cared for him, just a little, but if she did… he would be lost. This was tough enough as it was.

A heavily sedated Tyler Crawley was sleeping, and a vigilant nurse refused to allow anyone into his room. Bella spoke to the family, a weepy mother and a white-faced father who sat in the waiting room, and two brothers who paced.

Bella didn't say hello and leave, she sat there. She comforted them.

When Mr. Crawley realized who Edward was that he was the man who gone into the fire to save his son. Edward was subjected to an embarrassing display of gratitude. Mrs. Crawley even insisted on giving him a big hug, and promised to feed him a good traditional American dinner once Tyler was home.

When Edward and Bella finally made their way back to the parking lot, the light of day was already dying, so much for their picnic. Instead of taking her home, Edward drove a silent Bella to an almost deserted parking lot that looked over the bay. He parked beneath a streetlamp that came on moments after they pulled into the lot, and rolled down the windows.

"We should do this another time," Bella said, her eyes on the bay. "It's late, we're both tired." She sighed. "Maybe we should just call it a day."

Edward reached into the back and grabbed the cooler he had packed, handed Bella a bottle of water, and then folded the top back so she could see what was inside. "And throw all this away?" He grabbed two chilled glasses wrapped in clear wrap from the ice-filled cooler. "Chocolate mousse from La Bella's."

He looked down, and Bella followed his gaze. On seeing the contents of the cooler, she actually smiled.

"Chocolate pie from Sue's," he continued. "Chocolate dip for the fruit, chocolate cake from the hotel dining room and chocolate kisses." The silver wrapped candies were scattered over everything in the cooler, sparkling in the light of the setting sun.

"Just dessert?" Bella asked.

"Spoil yourself," he answered.

She lifted her head and her grin widened. "I've never seen so much chocolate in one place in all my life. This must be heaven."

"You are the kind of special woman, Bella Swan, who might make a man do anything to see that smile, to give you everything you've ever wanted."

"No, I'm not," she whispered, her smile fading.

After returning the mousse to the cooler, Edward reached into the back seat and grabbed the bag that contained silver forks and spoons and linen napkins. "You are," he said, unable to look at her. "And you have had a very bad day."

Except for that kiss. It was the bright spot in an otherwise terrible day. One of those unforgettable moments. And yes… it had been a mistake.

Edward removed a napkin from the bag and handed it to Bella. She placed it on her lap as he reached into the cooler and lifted one of the fluted glasses of mousse and unwrapped it. He dipped out a spoonful and let his hand drift towards Bella.

"You're going to feed me?" she asked, smiling again.

"Yes," he said. "And for once, do not argue with me." Bella looked as though she were considering doing just that, but when the spoon approached she parted her lips and allowed him to slip the mousse-filled spoon into her mouth. She closed her lips over the silver, and he slowly pulled the utensil from her lips.

"See?" he said as she closed her eyes and swallowed. "Not so bad."

"You're spoiling me," she said softly.

"Someone needs to," he countered.

Bella was tough, a woman doing a man's job. She was everything a proper Arab woman was not. And at that moment Edward wanted nothing more than to feed her, wrap her in a soft blanket, and hold her close until she slept. He had a feeling it had been a long time since anyone had comforted her in any way.

"Why do you not have a man in your life to feed you?" he asked, a little angry that she had given up so much for her business. For her business alone, or for the Volturi? He hated the indecision that slipped into his mind.

"You never have gotten over the fact that the CEO of Swan Oil is a woman, have you?" she asked with a small smile.

"Don't change the subject." He fed her another spoonful of mousse. "We're not talking about business. Why aren't you married? You should have children, a husband…"

"You're beginning to sound like Angela," Bella interrupted, her voice a bit too tight. "Many women choose career over family, these days. I know that's a foreign concept to you, but…"

"You need more than Swan Oil to make you happy," he said gruffly, "I can see it in you, this yearning for so much more. A family. A life beyond the refinery."

Even in the fading light, he could see her blush. "If you must know, I was engaged once, a long time ago."

The man in the photograph, he assumed. Mike. "What happened? Did he break you heart? Did he leave you for another woman? Why have you made this career your life?"

"He died," she said, apparently trying to snap at him but finding herself unable to be completely cold. Her eyes filled with tears. A couple quickly spilled down her cheeks.

Edward silently cursed himself. "I'm sorry."

"Would you just take me home, please?"

"No." He set the mousse on ice and closed the cooler. "I should have kept my questions to myself. We don't have to talk about the past." Or the future, which was so uncertain he could not even tell Bella he would be here two days from now.

Edward reached out and grasped the back of Bella's head in his hand. His fingers threaded through her silky hair, his palm cupped her warm skin. She didn't shake him off, or pull back, but lifted her head to look him in the eye. Kissing her this afternoon had been mistake, and he was about to make the same mistake again. He leaned over the cooler, drawing her closer as he moved near.

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he whispered.

"I'm not crying."

"I know." Edward laid his lips on Bella's and kissed her quickly. It was meant to be a comforting kiss, nothing more, but his mouth lingered. She tasted of chocolate and tears, this woman he could not get out of his mind, and once again he was filled with the need to comfort her, to take her into his arms and under this wing and keep the ugliness of the world at bay. Her mother had been gone a long time. Had her father ever cared for her in the way a father should? Or had Bella drifted through the hard times in her life alone? Perhaps that solitude had made her the woman she was today, perhaps having no one but herself to rely on had made her an independent woman.

But no one should be alone.

She answered his kiss, gently drawing her breath in to taste him as he tasted her. Those fine lips trembled. Not with fear, he knew, but with a rapidly growing desire.

Edward took his lips from Bella's and gave her a wicked smile he did not feel in his heart. "No more tears," he commanded.

"Yes, sir," she said. Trying for a smile herself, a twist of her lips that was as heartfelt as his own.

"It's been a long day." He opened the cooler once again. "Chocolate, more chocolate, and then you need to get to bed." Alone, unfortunately.

**AN: There you guys go, so please you know what to do... REVIEW.**

**Also i have had people ask if we are going to see the others, you will see some not all but i am going to try and get the main ones in.**

**So if you guys review i will give you another sneak peek...**

**Mystik  
**


	12. A Little Progress

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Stephanie Meyers and Linda Winstead Jones do…**

**Chapter Twelve – A Little Progress**

There was a knock at the front door, which was intruding on her sleep, Bella rolled over, glancing at the clock. Five-thirty. Five-thirty in the morning! _What the hell!_ At first you can see she was annoyed, and then it bolted her like a lightning flash becoming wide awake. Something was wrong. Someone else was hurt, Or could be even worse. _Dead._

So throwing back the covers and jumping up from the bed, her heart was in her throat as she raked her fingers through her hair and raced toward the front door to the sounds of yet another soft knock. Hand on the doorknob, she looked through the peephole. And froze...

Edward Cullen, was wide awake and perfectly healthy, standing in the hallway.

The fear was replaced now with shock as she opened the door. "What do you want?"

"I told you I would make you coffee this morning."

"At the office," she seethed.

"IS there a kitchen at the office?"

"No."

"I thought not."

"Just a minute." Bella turned around and walked slowly toward the bedroom. Her blue cotton sweats and a blue tank top were perfectly decent. She didn't have any nightwear that wasn't decent. But she'd feel vulnerable answering the door in her pj's, with Edward standing there wide awake and fully dressed. She grabbed a thick robe from her closet, slipped it on and belted it tightly, and headed toward the door again.

As she neared the door, she heard his soft knock once more.

"You're so impatient," she muttered as she spun the dead bolt and opened the door.

As Edward stepped into her apartment, he grinned and looked her up and down with appreciative eyes, He had to be kidding. She wore no makeup, she had bed-head, and this robe was thick and shapeless. What was there to appreciate?

"Why on earth," she said as she closed the door behind Edward, "are you up this early?"

"I couldn't sleep," he said, pulling his eyes from her to glance around her living room, taking everything in.

Her apartment was a good size for one person, over two thousand square feet. This living room was the largest of all the rooms, wide and long and made for entertaining. Bella never entertained, unless she counted the times Angela had come over for dinner.

She'd decorated the place herself, using the mixture of western style and weathered antiques. Her main concern, when it came to furniture, was comfort. The blue couch in the conversation area, low, fat chairs in varying shades of coral-pink, had been all been chosen with relaxation in mind. She'd sat in each and every one of them before buying.

The weathered bookshelf was full. Novels, mostly classics, though there were a few industry manuals on one shelf. An array of plants were arranged on the antique credenza against one wall. As long as she remembered to water the plants once a week, they thrived.

There were lots of candles in the room, candles in the same shades as the couch and chairs. Other than the plants and the candles, the place was fairly Spartan. She didn't want or need a collection of knickknacks to dust. She'd spent many an evening alone in this room. Reading, watching TV. Not this week, though. This week she'd been too busy to crash on the couch all alone.

Edward stopped studying the room and turning his eyes to her. Green, piercing eyes that seem to house a thousand secrets. A thousand desires. Not quite awake, caught off guard, she couldn't help but think of yesterday's kisses. For the past eight years she had kept her distance, where men were concerned. The few social engagements she'd had since Mike's death and been strictly business, and had ended with a handshake, not a kiss. She had forgotten how powerful a romantic kiss could be, how deep it could reach.

From the bedroom, the sound of her alarm interrupted her inappropriate musings. She spun around and presented her back to Edward. "Kitchen's that way," she said, pointing toward the arched opening in the wall that led to the dining room. The large kitchen was just beyond. "Use it as you will. I'm going to take a shower and get dressed."

***

The coffee was boiling, the small porcelain cups he had purchased sat waiting on the counter of Bella's ultra modern kitchen. The shower had stopped, so Edward hurried as he searched through the files on Bella's home computer. Fortunately she had used the same password here as she had at the office. That lapse had saved him a lot of time.

One of the three bedrooms had been converted to a home office. He hadn't had time to carefully study all the paper files, but in rifling through he had seen nothing but standard paper work. One the computer, he discovered nothing but that Bella played a lot of FreeCell and Spider Solitaire.

The low hum of Bella's hair dryer ceased. She would be out soon, dressed and wondering what he was doing in her office. Edward's instincts told him time was up. He spun the chair around and left the room as he had found it, returning to the kitchen just in time to take the specially purchased coffeepot from the stove. A moment later, Bella joined him.

He had caught her off guard this morning, and was glad. Just from bed she'd looked tumbled, fresh, more inviting than she knew. Now, showered, dressed for a day at the refinery and newly fortified, she was again the woman he had come to expect. Her shield was in place, her business face on, her armour up.

He poured two cups and offered her one. "_Fil afrahh._"

She took the small cup in both hands. "What does that mean?"

"To your happiness," he translated. "Do you speak any Arabic?"

"No," she said, studying the strong coffee with a cautious eye.

"Your father should have insisted," he said. "It is a beautiful language."

"I took Spanish in high school and college," she said. "It's much more hand here than Arabic would be." She lifted her eyes cautiously. "But you're right. It is a beautiful language. _Fil afrahh,_" she said softly, lifting her cup in an easy salute.

She lifted the cup to her lips, tool a sip, and made a face.

"Yikes," she said as she lowered the cup and looked in to it with one narrowed eye. "No wonder you can't sleep. This stuff is strong."

He didn't tell her so, but coffee hadn't kept him awake last night. She had. Unknowingly, unwittingly, she had crept into his mind and taken up residence. He had no choice but to continue with his investigation, and he could not tell Bella why he was here, what he was doing.

She ruined her coffee with milk and sugar. Lots of sugar. Leaning back against the counter, she closed her eyes, took another sip, and seemed to enjoy the strong brew.

"Better?" he asked.

"Much." Her eyes met his. "Are you hungry? I have lots of leftover chocolate cake and pie in the refrigerator."

He shook his head.

She smiled, a soft, reluctant grin. "I think I've actually had enough chocolate myself, for a while."

"Too much of a good thing?" he asked.

She shuddered, just a little. "Maybe."

Today he would once again search the refinery, using any excuse he could to work his way into the good graces and confidences of Bella's employees. Perhaps if he looked hard enough and long enough, someone would make a mistake and give themselves away.

"Tonight…" he began.

"I have work to do tonight," Bella interrupted tersely. "Really. Lots and lots of…" her eyes met his and she sighed. "Work."

She was afraid. Of the kiss, of losing control. He knew, because he shared her fears. "You mentioned the Forks Ballroom," he said. "You said I should go. Surely you would not make me venture into such an unknown place all alone."

At the end of the day, when he'd done everything he could do for his father and his country, he wanted to dance with Bella. He wouldn't be here much longer. Either he would find what he was looking for or he would be called home. Yes, he wanted to dance with her. He wanted to hold her and move in time with the music, and while they danced he would imagine all the things they would never do.

Bella shook her head and finished off her coffee. When she placed the cup on the counter, he saw the surrender in her eyes. "Well, I definitely can't let you go into the Forks Ballroom alone."

***

Bella had phone calls to answer from her office, which was just as well. Edward was quite sure Emmet as a guide would not be nearly as distracting as Swan Oil Refinery's lovely CEO.

But the day after a fire and rescue was not the time to subtly investigate. Everyone wanted to shake his hand, say hello, tell him he was a hero. Edward tried to tell the men that what he had done was nothing, that any one of them would have done the same, but they wouldn't listen.

On the surface, there was nothing sinister here. They employees worked hard and for the most part got along well. The mix of sweaty faces was varied; Arabic, Anglo, African American and Hispanic worked side by side.

Bella had a great deal of confidence in her plant manager, Emmett McCarty. Emmet had been in his position longer than she had, probably knew everything that went on in this refinery. He would have to be involved, if the refinery were indeed a front for the Volturi. Wouldn't he?

As they left one work area, Edward pointed toward the south end of the property. "I have not yet seen the water treatment building and the tanks in that area."

Emmet, who was perhaps forty forty-five and who possessed brown, expressionless eyes, stared at Edward. "There's not much to see. If you've seen one tank you've seen them all."

"True," Edward said with a forced smile. "But the water treatment building… what kind of system do you use?"

"What difference does it make?" Emmet's dark brown brows came together as he frowned. "I'm sorry," he said in a lowered voice.

"No, I should apologize," Edward replied. "You have work to do andi have taken up much of your time."

"Investors are usually satisfied with a quick peek and then they're out of here," Emmet said, no sign of his quick anger remaining. Visibly, he was calm once again. "You've been out here three days in a row, poking around. Makes me antsy, that's all"

Edward grinned. "I have no designs on your job, if that's what you're worried about."

Emmet shook his head. "Most days I'd gladly let you have it."

They walked toward the water treatment building, and Edward glanced at the plant manger. "How long have you been in this country?" Emmet's face was Arabic, but his speech and mannerisms were pure American.

"My folks came here when I was six," he explained, squinting against the bright sunlight. Before they reached the water treatment facility, Emmet came to a sudden halt.

"Can I be up-front with you, Mr Cullen?"

"Of course."

Emmet laid those brown eyes on Edward's face. The man was not intimidated by Edward's position or wealth, and he wasn't as impressed as his men had been by yesterday's daring rescue. "I'm not worried about my job. I don't mind showing you around the refinery. However, if you plan on taking advantage of Bella in any way, I _do_ mind."

The caution irritated Edward's pride, more than a little. "You are very protective of your employer."

"I've known Bella since she was a teenager," Emmet said. "First as the owner's daughter, then as an employee. She started here as fresh as you please, but she learned quickly and she now knows the refinery business as thoroughly as any man you'll ever fine."

"I have noticed that."

"If you think you can move in here and take advantage of Bella Swan just because she's a woman, you've got another thing coming."

"Because you are here to see that I do not?" Edward couldn't help but wonder if Emmet, who was older than Bella by at least ten years, had ever coveted a more intimate role in her life. He didn't like the idea, not at all.

Emmet took a deep breath. "I've said too much already Rosalie always tells me I don't know when to shut up."

"Rosalie?"

Emmet smiled. His entire face changed. "My wife."

Edward breathed a sigh of relief. It was obvious the man was crazy about his wife. "Bella has spoken very highly of you. And I can see that you think highly of her, as well."

Emmet nodded. "I do. She's like a sister to me."

"I have only known her a few days, but even I can see that she is perfectly capable of issuing her own warnings and cautions.

Emmet cast a sharp glance at Edward, unsure what to think of that comment. He took a deep breath and stepped to the side. "You go ahead and look around, Mr Cullen," he said coolly. "I have work to do."

Edward watched Emmet walk back toward the admin building nearest the working plant. Was it possible that the plant manager was involved with The Volturi? Was it possible that he was_ not?_

He resumed his walk toward the water treatment facility, but was stopped short when a man came down the stairs from the laboratory/office situated on top of the huge, sturdy building.

"Can I help you?"

Edward smiled. "I'm touring the facilities," he said. "I haven't seen this building, yet."

The man, a Prieaian, Edward guessed, continued to smile. Another face appeared at the top of the stairway, and a man cam around the building. "I'm sorry," he said. "We're doing maintenance at the moment and the building is closed to visitors. Another day," he said. "Maybe next week."

"I might not be here next week," Edward replied, taking a single step forward.

By this time there were half a dozen employees in the area. All water treatment employees, and all Prieaian. Where was the racial mix he had seen elsewhere? Where were the friendly smiles?

Edward offered a smile of his own. "All water treatment facilities are about the same, I imagine. Sorry to have disturbed your work." He waved casually and turned his back on the men. A tingle of warning crept down his spine as he walked away.

Edward didn't look back, but he had a feeling all the employees at the water treatment building watched without moving from their posts. This was the first unusually incident, the first sign that Carlisle's information might have been correct. There was nothing to be done at the moment, but he'd be back to see more of this area. Tonight.

AN: Review.


	13. The Brother & Dancing

**AN: Hey guys. Sorry i haven't updated. As an apology i am uploading two chapters.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Stephanie Meyers and Linda Winstead Jones do…**

**Chapter Thirteen – The Brother & Dancing**

"I am not doing that," Edward said forcefully, nodding to the dancers who were spread across the Forks Ballroom's huge polished floors.

"The Chicken?" Bella asked with a wide smile. "Why not?"

He narrowed his eyes and glared at her. "It's undignified."

From their booth against the back wall, Bella watched the line dancers flap their arms like a chicken's wings and silently agreed. "But it is fun," she said.

Bella had work a hobo mini skirt, with a blue V cut blouse and heeled boots. Music blared from the bluegrass band on stage, and on a Friday night the place was packed.

Edward wore jeans and boots, along with a white western-style shirt that was stark against the dark skin at his throat. Bella's eyes were continually drawn there, to the place where flesh met cotton.

They sat across the table from one another and sipped at large glasses of sweet iced tea. The noise in the Forks Ballroom, a huge building that looked like a warehouse on the outside and a barn with a polished floor on the inside, was almost deafening. The loud music, the laughter, the shouts of pure joy from the more exuberant dancers—Bella's ears were already ringing.

Edward had put in another day at the refinery, helping out where he could and asking endless questions. When he'd arrived at her office, that first day, she'd expected nothing more than a perfunctory examination of the facility and perhaps one more business meeting to discuss financial matters. Instead he had come on like gangbusters, quickly making himself a part of the operation.

She had never expected that he would take an interest not only in the plant. But in the people who worked there. He asked questions about everyone, and this afternoon he had been very curious about Emmet.

The Chicken ended, and the band struck up something softer, gentler. A good old-fashioned Waltz.

Edward looked at her and grinned. "This I can do," he said, exiting the booth and offering his hand to her.

Bella placed her hand in to his waiting palm and stood. Nothing had gone as planned this week. Nothing. A part of her wanted to shake her fanciful musings loose and force her life back into its regimented routine. Another, stronger, instinct she hadn't known was a part of her demanded that she close her eyes, drift along, and see what happened next. She had never, not once in her life, been tempted to go with the flow.

Edward was a good dancer, she knew that well from their evening at La Bella's. The two-step took the dancers in a circle around the ballroom, a beautifully rotating ring of swirling skirts and boots that moved in time with the music. Each couple moved in their own time, and yet as one. Bella noted that fact once, and then her world narrowed. There was only this dance, the music, and the way Edward held her.

His arms were strong and yet gentle, the way a man's arms should be. There was strength all through his body, an almost tangible force she felt more intensely with every passing second. He was a warrior, a man's man, the kind of man every mother warned every daughter about. There had been no one to warn Bella about men like this one, but she had learned to trust her own instincts, to rely on herself and no one else. And still… she wouldn't push this man away for the world.

She worked in a world of men. Angela and a few lower level employees in the main admin building were the only women she saw on a regular basis. The refinery was a man's world. Her father lived in a man's world. Nothing and no one fazed her.

So why did she feel so different when she was with Edward? When he held her like this, when he kissed eh, when he looked at her. She had a sinking feeling that might be a weakness she could not afford.

"When are you returning to Volterra?" she asked as he spun her around.

"I don't know. Nothing is settled between us."

Her heart skipped a beat. He was talking about the proposed partnership, of course, but for a second she'd been sure he spoke of something else entirely.

"Do you have plans for the weekend?"

His answering smile was brilliant. "None."

"I have a small ranch type property just an hour or so from town. It's not much, but I have a few horses, and there's a really great path along the river. Do you ride?"

He gave her a look that said, without a word. _Do I ride? Of course I do. I ride better than you. I ride better than any man._ He said all that with a lift of his eyebrows and a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes. "I would love to spend the day at your ranch."

"Good."

The music ended, the dance came to a close, and they stood on the dance floor awaiting the next song. Neither of them wanted to move, it seemed. They stood there, transfixed, caught between one song and the next.

But the band leader announced a twenty minute break and the spell was broken. Edward took her arm and they made their way to the table, walking arm in arm through the crowd.

"Bella?" She recognized that voice, and spun to face Jasper Whitlock as he descended upon her with a widening smile and a question in his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Before she had a chance to answer, he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a big hug, followed by a kiss on the cheek. "I don't think I've ever seen you here before."

When he released her, Bella stepped back and looked up at him. "You come here often?"

"When I am in town." His eyes drifted past her to land on Edward. The friendly look he had given her now vanished.

"Jasper this is Edward," she said, keeping the introductions simple.

The men each extended a hand for what looked to be a not-so-friendly handshake. They stood almost eye t eye. Edward was an inch or so taller, but Jasper made up for the lack of being a tough as leather Texan who never backed down an inch. Jasper and Edward sized one another up as they shook hands, in that way mach men had. They each used a firm grasp, she noticed, and eyeballed one another hard.

"One of your father's friends?" Jasper asked in an icy tone, his question directed to her, his eyes never leaving Edward's face.

"I am Bella's friend." Edward answered.

It was like throwing a switch. Separately Jasper and Edward were sweet, caring, wonderful men. Put them nose to nose and they turned into a couple of common bar brawlers looking for a fight. Even though she didn't completely understand, she did know why these two faced one another this way. They each, for their own separate reasons, felt protective of her. She supposed she should be flattered, but watching them stare one another down, she could only shake her head in wonder. She didn't need protecting. Never had.

She finally leaned in just a little, and in a lowered voice said, "Who don't you two just step outside the back and have yourselves a good old-fashioned pissing contest."

They both turned their eyes down to her.

"Excuse me?" Edward said.

"Bella!" Jasper admonished. "Watch your language."

She grinned at them both. The initial tension had been quickly diffused, "Would you like to join us, Jasper?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I have a beer and a blonde waiting at the bar. I just wanted to say hello.

There was a touch of sadness in that voice. She and Jasper had once been close, but these days they barely spoke. He had a falling out with her father, years ago. Neither of them would speak about the problem, at least not to _her_. Jasper told her she should quit working for her father and strike out on her own, and was always so disappointed when she refused his suggestion.

"Good to see you," she said, reaching up to kiss him quickly on the cheek. "Call me sometime." She wouldn't hold her breath waiting for that call, though she did wish it would come.

When Jasper sauntered off, Edward took her arm and guided her toward their table. "Who was that?" he asked testily as they sat.

Bella smiled across the table. "The first man I ever loved," she answered. "My first summer romance."

Edward's eyes narrowed. "Really?"

Bella smiled widely. " I was eleven and home for the summer, enjoying a vacation from boarding school. Jasper was seventeen and already a heart-breaker. Every night I wrote about him in my diary."

"I would like to see this diary," Edward said, visibly relaxing as he realized that her love had been that of a child.

"Sorry, I burned it years ago." She leaned across the table. "Some secrets should never be revealed." Her smile dimmed. "Actually, he's my brother."

"Your _brother?_"

"Adopted," she added. "His parents died when he was a teenager. First his father, and then a short while later his mother. Mrs. Whitlock and my father were friends. When she passed on, she named my father Jasper's guardian."

"And now?" Edward asked. "I haven't seen your _brother _ at the refinery."

"Jasper and Dad parted ways years ago, and not on good term," Bella explained. "I swear, they butted heads at every turn. This all happened before I joined the business so I wasn't there to smooth things over." Or to be privy to what caused that final rift.

"You do that, don' you?" Edward asked with a smile.

"Do what?"

"Smooth things over for your father."

She shrugged, "He isn't a people person."

"But you and this Jasper remain close," Edward said, his smile fading.

"We try, but to be honest I don't see Jasper much, these days. He goes his way and I go mine, and we're both very busy. Besides," she added, trying to lighten her voice. "We're both workaholics. Whenever we do run into one another, we always end up talking about business."

Edward seemed to relax. Had he been jealous of Jasper? Maybe just a little bit? What a ridiculous thought.

A twangy county song came up on the jukebox. "I guess you and I should be talking about business tonight," she said.

"Why?"

"That's why you're here." Much as she would like to see more where Edward was concerned, she knew what his agenda was.

"That's why I came to Forks. Perhaps it's not why I stay."

He stood and offered his hand. A few people danced to the faded sounds of the jukebox, and apparently Edward wanted to join them. Bella didn't hesitate. She laid her hand in his and stood, and as she came to her feet he tugged gently and pulled her body against his.

Bella had never in her life wanted to hide the way she wanted to hide here. She wanted to seep beneath Edward's warm skin and stay there. Her nose rested against his shoulder, his arms encircled her ad shielded her from everyone and everything else. No, she didn't want to talk about mergers or profit margins or employees tonight.

Edward danced her to the polished floor, sheltered her with his arms, and bent his head to whisper in her ear. The words he spoke were in Arabic, though he spoke English so well. A slip of the tongue? Or did he not want her to know what he said?

She didn't ask him to translate. The words sounded tender and sweet, and at the moment that was all she needed.

**AN: OK. There you guy. Jasper is the older protective brother. I wonder what the fight with Charlie was about... Well we'll have to wait and see. Jealous Edward. Hehe...**

**Review. **

**Mystik  
**


	14. The Water Treatment Plant

**AN: OK as promised here is the second chapter for today. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Stephanie Meyers and Linda Winstead Jones do…**

**Chapter Fourteen – The Water Treatment Plant**

***

Edward parked the Volvo off the road, behind a grove of thickly leaved trees where it would not be seen from the refinery, should anyone look this way. It had been less than half an hour since he'd dropped Bella off at her apartment, promising to pick her up at nine in the morning for the drive to her ranch. Eight hours from now.

Dressed in black and carrying bolt cutters he approached the refinery from the north, beside the railroad tracks. Finding a spot in the fence that was not well lit, he dropped to his knees and began to cut at the base of the chain link and then up the side. He cut just enough to make an opening to squeeze his body through.

He slipped quietly through the opening, his body shielded by darkness and the railroad car between hi and the refinery. Once he was on the other side, he repositioned the fence so it looked undamaged.

There was only so much he could see of the refinery, during the day. Asking to be shown an array of warehouses, examine the tanks themselves, would be suspicious. If he were hiding a prince, he'd choose one of those two places. An empty oil tank or a rarely used warehouse.

Or the water treatment plant, he thought as he moved silently toward the nearest tank. The all- Prieaian crew and their determination to keep him away this afternoon were more than enough to raise his suspicions.

As he had entered on the north side of the fenced property, he started there by examining the tanks. He quickly found them unguarded and being used for their intended purpose. That done, he began surveying the warehouses he had not yet been able to investigate.

The warehouses were spread about the compound, most of them near the edge of the property, away from the working refinery. With the hiss of steam and the hum of running pumps in his ears, Edward began to examine each and every building. They were all locked, but dark and unguarded. Peering through the windows, his flashlight shining through the murky glass, he was able to discern the use for each warehouse. There was nothing sinister, here.

He kept to the shadows as he made his way to the water treatment pant. The facility was huge, almost the size of an American football field. Up the metal stairs to the roof, there sat an office and laboratory. Underground, beneath the stored water, there were more labs, as well as pump rooms and hundreds of yards of piping.

Even now, there was a guard circling the building. The sentry was unarmed, or at least it appeared that way at first glance. An openly armed guard would surely raise suspicions.

Taking a chance, after waiting for the guard to pass, Edward tried one door. Locked. A quick glance told him that this was not a flimsy lock like the one on Bella's office building. He could pick this lock, but it would take more time than he had. Circling the building, peeking around the corner to make sure the guard had moved on, Edward continued to search for a way in. He quickly found it, in a concealed, unlocked door behind the chlorine storage area.

The dark stairway led sharply down, and Edward moved silently. The way was lit by bare, low-watt light bulbs set in the wall down the length of the hallway at the end of the stairway. The hum and throb of pumps was all he heard. No voices mingled with the sound of machinery.

Once in the hallway, Edward placed his ear against the closed door to the nearest pump room. When he was satisfied that no one was in the small room, he opened the door and searched it quickly, finding noting unusual.

In the next room, a table and four chairs had been set among the pumps. Nothing else. Surprisingly, there was an ashtray filled with ashes and cigarette butts on the centre of the table. No one smoked at a refinery! Not even here, where the air was dank and damp.

Edward continued his search, uninterrupted. There was no sign of a more stringent guard below grown, no sign of the prince he searched for. He crossed a catwalk to the opposite side of the building, descending the stairs, and continued his search. When he found a locked door, hi heart leaped into his throat.

This was a flimsier lock than the one on the outer door, and he had no problem getting past it with the tool he wore on his belt. The door swung open on a disassembled lab. No lights shone here, as they had elsewhere.

He was no spy, no trained investigator, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he flicked on his flashlight and stepped into the lab, closing the door behind him. At the opposite end of the small room, the beam from his flashlight arched across a wooden crate. Edward dropped to his heels before the crate, and lifted the lid.

Guns. A crate full of Colt Commandos, a short barreled version of the standard M16 rifle. There were not enough weapon here to supply an army. Nut there were definitely enough to arm a faction of terrorists. And who knew what other small rooms might house crates such as this one? He wouldn't have time to search them all. Not tonight/

But this crate was enough to confirm the suspicions that had triggered this mission. _El-Malak._ The Ghost. Somehow Edward knew the man had been here. Carlisle's information had been right. Someone was using Bella's refinery as a front for The Volturi.

He was to call Carlisle tomorrow night. At that time he would tell his brother what he'd found and ask what was to happen next. Edward knew he wasn't done. This crate of weapons was just an indication that the Brothers were here. He still had no idea if they knew of the prince's whereabouts.

In the back of his mind, Edward heard the strains of the last song he and Bella had danced to, tonight. He saw the light in her eyes and the innocence of her smile, He knew in his heart, that whoever was using this refinery did so without her knowledge. A part of him wanted to go to her now and tell her everything. Why he was really here and what he had found.

If he had kissed her good-night, she might have invited him up to her apartment. He had specifically _not_ kissed her, knowing what might happen if he did, knowing that they danced too near an edge neither of them could afford to cross.

His feelings for her were unexpected. A complication. He couldn't afford to come clean, and he certainly couldn't follow his instincts. He wouldn't make love to her, not like this. Not while he was spying on her. Later, when this investigation was over and Bella's name was cleared and he could tell her everything, then he would have her. Then he would do much more than kiss her good-night.

He returned the lid to the crate and made his way toward the door. The hall was deserted. He'd been here long enough, he knew. His suspicions were confirmed, and his time was up luck only lasted so long. He headed for the stairs to the catwalk, making his way to the door on the opposite side of the building. As he reached the catwalk, he heard an unexpected sound—voices of men approaching from the opposite ground floor hallway. It was enough to stop him in his tracks and send him low, so that he lay belly down on the catwalk, looking through the metal grating to the floor below.

"When will we see some real action?" one man asked.

"Soon." The second man's voice was calmer, a notch lower.

The two men stepped into the dimly lit open area below, where they were surrounded by piping and working pumps.

"I did not come to America to work at a refinery." The first man, who had a harsher voice than the second, sounded frustrated.

Edward wanted to see their faces. He had to see. Moving soundlessly, he shifted so he could see through the widest opening in the grating. One of the men put a cigarette in his mouth and struck a match. For an instant, Edward saw their faces clearly. They were both Arab, probably Prieaian. One was short, the other tall. These were not men he had met, but then he had not worked on this shift, and even if he had…apparently the water treatment facility had its own crew.

"You won't be here long," the smoking man said. "I have it on good authority that soon we will have a true battle to fight for our noble cause."

"Why do we wait?" the smaller man asked.

"Money," the smoking man growled. "we wait for money."

"Soldiers do not think of such mundane matters."

"Well, someone has to, unless you want to wage war with rocks."

They talked a few minutes longer, the tall man tossed his cigarette to the floor and stepped on the glowing butt, and they headed for the door.

Even after they had departed and no sound of their voices traveled to him, Edward remained very still for a while. They two men might be in the opposite hallway, running a quick security check. When he was sure they were gone, he made his way across the catwalk and into the hallway. He didn't stop to inspect the pump rooms, not this time, but hurried silently to the exit. The guard was nowhere to be seen, so Edward headed for the dark shadows of the nearest warehouse.

Shielded by the warehouse, he took a moment to catch his breath. Just a moment, and then he was moving again. As he jogged toward the bread in the fence, his heart began to race. A battle soon, the one man had said. How soon? Neither of those men were _El-Malak, _but they were definitely a part of the faction. Tomorrow night, perhaps the next, he would request an official tour of the water treatment building. If he could get names for these men…it would be a start. Not a grand one, but a definite start.

When he called Carlisle tomorrow night, he would have something useful to report.

**AN: OK. There you guys go... REVIEW  
**


	15. AN: Not an update!

This is not an update sorry. Just letting you know that i will be updating soon its just that i am studying for exams in the next couple of weeks, so please don't think i have forgotten you guys. I will be continuing as soon as my exams are out of the way.

Mystik


	16. Sorry Guys!

Hello Everyone.

I have some bad news (SORRY) for those who wanted me to continue Secret Agent Prince. I will not be continuing.

The other day my computer contracted what I think was a virus, (not sure if it was) this happened the morning after installing windows updates in to my computer while I was asleep. Any how, when I turned on the computer the next morning I found out that my computer would not work. After a few days trying to figure it out I ended up reinstalling windows, and was unable to back up anything. I lost everything, including two chapters which I was about to place up on here. So please forgive me, I am unable to finish this.

But if anyone is wanting to continue for me, i am willing to give it up for adoption. Please feel free to contact me we can see what we can do.

But thanks to all who stuck with this story, who added me and the story to favourites, had me/Story on alerts and reviewed. I promise i was going to finish this story.

Please read my other stories. I should have a new one up soon once I get around to typing. (I have a few stories in notebooks just waiting to be added.)

Thanks so much.

Mystik Angel


	17. Help!

Hi guys need your help

Looking for a story that I read a while back and want to read again

Edward and Bella story, all human. To their families and everyone they hate each other. But they are really married. They return home for some reason (think it is for the holidays or a wedding) and they are found out.


End file.
